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.

Stew's so comforting on a rainy day.

Sometimes [the expression] old age has a kind of harrowing beauty. But elderly - ugh!

Only the margin left to write on now. I love you, I love you, I love you.

I have really sinned. I am going to pause now, and sit here on the mound repenting in deepest shame.

The tea was a comfort - and by that time I more than needed comfort.

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