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And must I, perchance, like careful writers, guard myself against the conclusions of my readers?

Djuna Barnes

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Djuna Barnes
Age: 90 †
Born: 1892
Born: June 12
Died: 1982
Died: June 18
Journalist
Novelist
Playwright
Poet
Writer
Cornwall on Hudson
New York
Lydia Steptoe
Must
Perchance
Like
Conclusions
Guard
Readers
Conclusion
Careful
Writers
Reader

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The heart of the jealous knows the best and most satisfying love, that of the other's bed, where the rival perfects the lover's imperfections.
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To think is to be sick.
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What is a ruin but time easing itself of endurance?
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I'm a fart in a gale of wind, a humble violet under a cow pat.
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We are but skin about a wind, with muscles clenched against mortality.
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We are adhering to life now with our last muscle - the heart.
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Well, isn't Bohemia a place where everyone is as good as everyone else - and must not a waiter be a little less than a waiter to be a good Bohemian?
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One must not look inward too much, while the inside is yet tender. I do not wish to frighten myself until I can stand it.
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I have a narrative, but you will be put to it to find it.
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The priceless galaxy of misinformation called the mind.
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When one wants to become cognizant of the color and the texture of the soil, one does not get a ladder one gets a shovel. When one wants to get into touch with the texture of the universal mind, one does not go to Boston one goes to the Bowery.
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I have been loved,' she said, 'by something strange, and it has forgotten me.
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No man needs curing of his individual sickness his universal malady is what he should look to.
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Of course I think of the past and of Paris, what else is there to remember?
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I couldn't ever boil potatoes over the heat of your affection. Your love would never bridge a gap it wouldn't even fill up the hole that the mice came through.
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After all, it is not where one washes one's neck that counts but where one moistens one's throat.
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We are beginning to wonder whether a servant girl hasn't the best of it after all. She knows how the salad tastes without the dressing, and she knows how life's lived before it gets to the parlor door.
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The very condition of Woman is so subject to Hazard, so complex, and so grievous, that to place her at one moment is but to displace her at the next.
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Man is the only thing that has no further use after something goes amiss.
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Love is the first lie wisdom the last.
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