And we are magic talking to itself, noisy and alone. I am queen of all my sins forgotten. Am I still lost? Once I was beautiful. Now I am myself

Now I am going back And I have ripped my hand From your hand as I said I would And I have made it this far.

Depression is boring, I think and I would do better to make some soup and light up the cave.

Today God gives milk / and I have the pail.

The beautiful feeling after writing a poem is on the whole better even than after sex, and that's saying a lot.

I am teaching... This year it's kind of like having a love affair with a rhinoceros.

women are born twice.