Even so, I must admire your skill. You are so gracefully insane.

Oh, darling, let your body in, let it tie you in, in comfort.

When I'm writing, I know I'm doing the thing I was born to do.

The grass as bristly and stout as chives and me wondering when the ground will break and me wondering how anything fragile survives

As it has been said: Love and a cough cannot be concealed. Even a small cough. Even a small love.

The sea is mother-death and she is a mighty female, the one who wins, the one who sucks us all up.

All I am is the trick of words writing themselves.