语言是一种皮肤：我用我的语言摩擦他人。就好像我有词语代替手指，或者手指在词语的尖端。
Language is a skin: I rub my language against the other. It is as if I had words instead of fingers, or fingers at the tips of my words.
The heart is a lonely hunter, and it will always be so.
I don't want to be a tree; I want to be its meaning.
"In the silence of the night, the writer finds the loudest voices."
You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.