Holding someone's hand was always my idea of joy.

I want the following word: splendor, splendor is fruit in all its succulence, fruit without sadness. I want vast distances. My savage intuition of myself.

How was she to tie herself to a man without permitting him to imprison her? And was there some means of acquiring things without those things possessing her?

The world's continual breathing is what we hear and call silence.

Do you ever suddenly find it strange to be yourself?

I ask myself: is every story that has ever been written in this world, a story of suffering and affliction?

Today at school I wrote an essay about Flag Day which was so beautiful, but ever so beautiful - for I even used words without really knowing what they meant.