At twenty I tried to dieAnd get back, back, back to you.I thought even the bones would do.
As I lay on my back in bed staring up at the blank, white ceiling the stillness seemed to grow bigger and bigger until I felt my eardrums would burst with it.
And what is happy? It is a going always on. There is something better to be done than I have done, and spurred by the fair delusion of progress, I will seek to progress, to whip myself on, to more and...
And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty. And like the cat I have nine times to die.
All the heat and fear had purged itself. I felt surprisingly at peace. The bell jar hung suspended a few feet above my head. I was open to the circulating air.
A little thing, like children putting flowers in my hair, can fill up the widening cracks in my self-assurance like soothing lanolin. I was sitting out on the steps today, uneasy with fear and discont...
امرأةٌ مبتسمة أنا لم أزل في الثلاثين ولديّ مثل القطة تسع مرّات لأموت.الموت فنّ على غرار كل ما عداه وإني أمارسه بإتقان أمارسه حتى يبدو جهنّما أمارسه حتى يبدو حقيقة في وسعكم القول إنه دعوتي.لكن هناك ثمن...
Your shelled bed I remember.Father, this thick air is murderous.I would breathe water.
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.
With me, the present is forever and forever is always shifting, flowing, melting. This second is life. And when it is gone it is dead. But you can’t start over with each new second. You have to judge...
What I cannot forgive is dishonesty - and no matter what, or how hard, I would rather know the truth of which I today had such a clear & devastating vision from his mouth than hear foul evasions, blur...
Sırça fanusun içinde ölü bir bebek gibi tıkanıp kalmış biri için dünyanın kendisi kötü bir düştür. Bir gün bir yerde -okulda, Avrupa'da, herhangi bir yerde- o boğucu çarpıtmalarıyla sırça fanusun yeni...
Neurotic, ha! I let out a scornful laugh. If neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I'm neurotic as hell. I'll be flying back and forth between one mutually e...
My skin is broken out from subconscious anxiety and tension, self-induced. Nothing is more difficult than lashing a vagrant mind suddenly into long self-imposed stints of concentration.
My bones hold a stillness, the farFields melt my heart.
Look at that ugly dead mask here and do not forget it. It is a chalk mask with dead dry poison behind it, like the death angel. It is what was this fall, and what I never want to be again. The pouting...
It is a terrible thing to be so open: it is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world.
It all flowed over me with a screaming ache of pain … remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I’ve taken for granted. Wh...
I wanted to tell her that if only something were wrong with my body it would be fine, I would rather have anything wrong with my body than something wrong with my head, but the idea seemed so involved...
I thought it sounded just like the sort of drug a man would invent. Here was a woman in terrible pain, obviously feeling every bit of it or she wouldn't groan like that, and she would go straight home...