Life would be so wonderful if we only knew what to do with it.

 I might like all of you---removed from your jobs and your newspapers.

 People make me nervous.

 I never said, 'I want to be alone.' I only said, 'I want to be left alone.' There is all the difference.

 I smoke all the time, one after the other.

 I don't like many people ... I need to be alone always. When I was just a little child, as early as I can remember, I have wanted to be alone ... I used to crawl into a corner and sit and think things over ... Alone.

 Life is full of melancholy times. These things come, but luckily they go away ... otherwise we'd jump in the East River, and it's so filthy.

 I wish I were supernaturally strong so I could put right everything that is wrong.

 The story of my life is about back entrances, side doors, secrets elevators and other ways of getting in  and out of places so that people won't bother me.

 Anyone who has a continuous smile on his face conceals a toughness that is almost frightening.

 Isn't life always full of romance?

 There seems to be a law that governs all our actions so I never make plans.

 I don't know really. I suppose I'm just drifting.

 What a waste of the best years of my life-always alone-it was so stupid not being able to partake more.

 Now I've become 'mysterious' just because I won't go out and amuse myself...

 I live like a monk: with one toothbrush, one cake of soap, and a pot of cream.

 I avoid unpleasant subjects. I adopt the ostrich policy: I turn away from anything I don't want to face.  But that doesn't solve anything.

 I always wanted to do my best. I got nothing free – I had to work hard.

 I would have liked to be a countess.

 I like to be alone, not always with some other person. There are many things in your heart that you can never tell another person. They are you. Your joys and your sorrows. And you can never, never tell them. It is not right that you should tell them.  You cheapen yourself, the inside of yourself, when you tell them.

 I never wanted any kind of attention from anybody, except to know that somebody likes me. Otherwise it's all so false. All they care about is, 'What does she look like today?' And look at me! I look the Madwoman of Chaillot, hair hanging . . .