I could hear rain still pouring from the gutters and a thin branch scraping against one of the windows; but the church seemed completely cut off from the restless day outside--just as I felt cut off from the church. I thought: I am a restlessness inside a stillness inside a restlessness.

And no bathroom on earth will make up for marrying a bearded man you hate.

My hand is very tired but I want to go on writing. I keep resting and thinking. All day I have been two people - the me imprisoned in yesterday and the me out here on the mound; and now there is a third me trying to get in - the me in what is going to happen next.

It is rather exciting to write by moonlight.

I have found that sitting in a place where you have never sat before can be inspiring.

I like seeing people when they can't see me.

I write this sitting in the kitchen sink.