Things were somehow so good that they were in danger of becoming very bad because what is fully mature is very close to rotting

And I want to be held down. I don't know what to do with the horrifying freedom that can destroy me.

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.

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.

Do you know that hope sometimes consists only of a question without an answer?

Who has not asked himself at some time or other: am I a monster or is this what it means to be a person?

Whether she won or lost, she would continue to wrestle with life. It would not be with her own life alone but with all of life. Something had finally been released within her. And there it was, the sea.