The secret is writing down one simple line after another.

nothing can save you except writing. it keeps the walls from failing.

I'll use the knives for spreading jam, and the gas to warm my greying love.

There is light somewhere.

The trouble with these people is that their cities have never been bombed and their mothers have never been told to shut up.

there are so many days when living stops and pulls up and sits and waits like a train on the rails.

Death is not the problem; waiting around for it is.