I couldn’t see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.
I could feel the winter shaking my bones and banging my teeth together.
I am terrified by this dark thingThat sleeps in me;All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.Clouds pass and disperse.Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables?Is it for s...
I am sure there are things that can't be cured by a good bath but I can't think of one.
I am sending back the keythat let me into bluebeard's study; because he would make love to meI am sending back the key;in his eye's darkroom I can seemy X-rayed heart, dissected body:
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly, as the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands. I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.
I am gone quite mad with the knowledge of accepting the overwhelming number of things I can never know, places I can never go, and people I can never be.
I am flushed and warm.I think I may be enormous,I am so stupidly happy,My wellingtonsSquelching and squelching through the beautiful red.
I also remembered Buddy Willard saying in a sinister, knowing way that after Ihad children I would feel differently, I wouldn't want to write poems any more. So I began to think maybe it was true that...
Hard, sharp, ticks. I hate them. Measuring thought, infinite space, by cogs and wheels. Can you understand? Someone, somewhere, can you understand me a little, love me a little? For all my despair, fo...
Feel like the recluse who comes out into the world with a life-saving gospel to find everybody has learned a new language in the meantime and can't understand a word he's saying.
And, I think: I am but one more drop in the great sea of matter, defined, with the ability to realize my existence. Of the millions, I, too, was potentially everything at birth. I, too, was stunted, n...
And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty. And like the cat I have nine times to die.
After nineteen years of running after good marks and prizes and grants of one sort or another, I was letting up, slowing down, dropping clean out of the race.
Because wherever I sat—on the deck of a ship or at a street café in Paris or Bangkok—I would be sitting under the same glass bell jar, stewing in my own sour air.
Your security and love of life don't depend on the presence of another, but only on yourself, your chosen work, and your developing identity. Then you can safely choose to enrich your life by marrying...
You were doing fine, a familiar voice informed my ear, until that man stepped into your path.
You walked in, laughing, tears welling confused, mingling in your throat. How can you be so many women to so many people, oh you strange girl?
You felt no reality. Only a weariness, a longing for a shoulder to sleep on, a pair of arms to curl up in — and a lack of that now.
Yet I liked him too much… way too much, and I ripped him out of my heart so it wouldn’t get to hurt me more than it did.