there was something about that city, though it didn't let me feel guilty that I had no feeling for the things so many others needed. it let me alone. sitting up in my bed the lights out, hearing the outside sounds, lifting my cheap bottle of wine, letting the warmth of the grape enter me as I heard the rats moving about the room, I preferred them to humans. being lost, being crazy maybe is not so bad if you can be that way undisturbed. New Orleans gave me that. nobody ever called my name.

Some people have written that my writing has helped them go on. It has helped me too. The writing, the roses, the 9 cats.

I am a series of small victories and large defeats.

A spark can set a whole forest on fire. Just a spark. Save it.

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

they thought I had guts they were wrong I was only frightened of more important things

There's nothing unusual about love.