I didn't like anybody in that school. I think they knew that. I think that's why they disliked me. I didn't like the way they walked or looked or talked, but I didn't like my mother or father either. I still had the feeling of being surrounded by white empty space. There was always a slight nausea in my stomach.

A dry period for me means perhaps going two or three nights without writing. I probably have dry periods but I'm not aware of them and I go on writing, only the writing probably isn't much good.

Some nights I knew that if I slept I would die.

I got up and walked back to my roominghouse. The moonlight was bright. My footsteps echoed in the empty street and it sounded as if somebody was following me, I looked around. I was mistaken. I was quite alone.

In my next life I want to be a cat. To sleep 20 hours a day and wait to be fed. To sit around licking my ass.

A love like that was a serious illness, an illness from which you never entirely recover.

I still have a little whiskey left and therefore a chance.