I wanted to do everything once and for all and be through with it.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again. (I think I made you up inside my head.) The stars go waltzing out in blue and red, And arbitrary blackness gallops in...
I felt myself shrink to a small black dot against all those red and white rugs and that pine paneling. I felt like a hole in the ground.
I am still so naïve; I know pretty much what I like and dislike; but please, don’t ask me who I am. A passionate, fragmentary girl, maybe?
I also hate people to ask cheerfully how you are when they know you're feeling like hell and expect you to say fine
I act and react, and suddenly I wonder, ‘Where is the girl that I was last year? Two years ago? What would she think of me now?
How could I write about life when I'd never had a love affair or a baby or seen anybody die?
How can I tell Bob that my happiness streams from having wrenched a piece out of my life, a piece of hurt and beauty, and transformed it to typewritten words on paper? How can he know I am justifying...
God, I scream for time to let go, to write, to think. But no. I have to exercise my memory in little feats just so I can stay in this damn wonderful place which I love and hate with all my heart. And...
As I paddled on, mt heartbeat boomed like a motor in my ears. I am I am I am.
Already she feels jaded. Weary, and gladly tired and old.
A time of darkness, despair, disillusion-so black only the inferno of the human mind can be-symbolic death, and numb shock-then the painful agony of slow rebirth and psychic regeneration
A ring of gold with the sun in it?Lies. Lies and a grief.
I have done, this year, what I said I would: overcome my fear of facing a blank page day after day, acknowledging myself, in my deepest emotions, a writer, come what may.
I tried to imagine what it would be like if Constantin were my husband.It would mean getting up at seven and cooking him eggs and bacon and toast andcoffee and dawdling about in my nightgown and curle...
The truth comes to me. The truth loves me.
What is my life for and what am I going to do with it? I don't know and I'm afraid.
What is it that teaching kills? The juice, the sap - the substance of revelation: by making even the insoluble questions & multiple possible answers take on the granite assured stance of dogma. It doe...
To learn and think; to think and live; to live and learn: this always, with new insight, new understanding, and new love.
There is so much hurt in this game of searching for a mate, of testing, trying. And you realize suddenly that you forgot it was a game, and turn away in tears.