They [daisies] are my favorite flower. There is something innocent and vulnerable about them as if they thanked you for admiring them.

I have been cut in two.

A woman who writes feels too much.

Let the light be called Day so that men may grow corn or take busses.

Put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard.

Yesterday I did not want to be borrowed but this is the typewriter that sits before me and love is where yesterday is at.

Death, I need my little addiction to you. I need that tiny voice who, even as I rise from the sea, all woman, all there, says kill me, kill me.