I know pretty much what I like and dislike; but please, don't ask me who I am.
I hate Technicolor. Everybody in a Technicolor movie seems to feel obliged to wear a lurid costume in each new scene and to stand around like a clotheshorse with a lot of very green trees or very yell...
I had always imagined myself hitching up on to my elbows on the delivery table after it was all over - dead white, of course, with no makeup and from the awful ordeal, but smiling and radiant, with my...
I fixed my eyes on the largest cloud, as if when it passed out of sight, I might have the good luck to pass with it.
I felt the mask crumple, the great poisonous store of corrosive ashes begin to spew out of my mouth.
I felt myself melting into the shadows like the negative of a person I'd never seen before in my life.
I didn't know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of the throat and I'd cry for a w...
God, who am I?
Even the sun-clouds this morning cannot manage such skirts Nor the woman in the ambulance Whore red heart blooms through her coat so astoundingly....Oh my God, what am I
Can nothingness be so prodigal?
At this rate, I'd be lucky if I wrote a page a day.Then I knew what the problem was.I needed experience.How could I write about life when I'd never had a love affair or a baby or even seen anybody die...
And I knew that in spite of all the roses and kisses and restaurant dinners a man showered on a woman before he married her, what he secretly wanted when the wedding service ended was for her to flatt...
All, all, becomes profitable. Education is of the most satisfying and available nature. I am at Smith! Which two years ago was a doubtful dream - and that fortuitous change of dream to reality has led...
شاید یک روزیک نفر
You inherit white heather, a bee's wing,Two suicides, the family wolves,Hours of blankness.
Yes, my consuming desire is to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, barroom regulars—to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording—all this is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl,...
Worse eventhan your maddening song, your silence.
When they asked me what I wanted to be I said I didn’t know.Oh, sure you know, the photographer said.She wants, said Jay Cee wittily, to be everything.
What did my fingers do before they held him?What did my heart do, with its love?From Three Women: A Poem for Three Voices, 1962
We all like to think that we are important enough to need psychiatrists.