The hard part is when everyone around you thinks they know who you are and they try to lay claim to you and you are trapped.

She is condemned to live in a small cloistered world because of her reluctance or inability to accept the responsibilities of adult friendship. 

- Bainbridge

…I was always tolerant—tolerant of her violence, her recklessness, of all her wild and uncontrolled love affairs. I understood all these passions in her as I could say I understand thunder, or a hurricane, or, in the case of her love affairs, as I understood a great cosmic maternal urge. Isadora was always the great mother in all her expressions of love—she could never truly be a mistress or a wife. She wanted ceaselessly to give of herself to all her loves as a mother gives to a child. And she gave herself indiscriminately because mothers, of which she was the supreme one, do not discriminate among their children.

. . . But I'm afraid she will never be a satisfactory person, because she is so dissatisfied with herself, and dissatisfied people can never be emotionally serious. They simply don't believe in anything—except their own limitations.

At dawn, when you have trouble getting out of bed, tell yourself: “I have to go to work — as a human being. What do I have to complain of, if I’m going to do what I was born for — the things I was brought into the world to do? Or is this what I was created for? To huddle under the blankets and stay warm?”

— But it’s nicer in here ...

So you were born to feel “nice”? Instead of doing things and experiencing them? Don’t you see the plants, the birds, the ants and spiders and bees going about their individual tasks, putting the world in order, as best they can? And you’re not willing to do your job as a human being? Why aren’t you running to do what your nature demands? 

— But we have to sleep sometime ...

Agreed. But nature set a limit on that — as it did on eating and drinking. And you’re over the limit. You’ve had more than enough of that. But not of working. There you’re still below your quota.

... none of us deserve the love that we expect.