Keeping a journal implies hope.

There is a rhythm to the ending of a marriage just like the rhythm of a courtship-only backward. You try to start again but get into blaming over and over. Finally you are both worn out, exhausted, hopeless. Then lawyers are called in to pick clean the corpses. The death has occurred much earlier.

This is the sad bed of chosen chastity because you are miles and mountains away.

biography is essentially a collaborative art, the latest biographer collaborating with all those who wrote earlier.

Birth is the start of loneliness and loneliness the start of poetry.

Underneath it all, you longed to be annihilated by love.

I am not sure if love is a salve or just a deeper kind of wound.