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.

Oh, it is wonderful to wake up in the morning with things to look forward to!

Truthfulness so often goes with ruthlessness.

I write this sitting in the kitchen sink.

Even a broken heart doesn't warrant a waste of good paper.

Wakings are the worst times--almost before my eyes are open a great weight seems to roll on my heart.

Perhaps it would really be rather dull to be married and settled for life. Liar! It would be heaven.