Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you

Well, I can't describe her exactly-except to say that she was beautiful. She was-tremendously alive.

Ernest [Hemmingway] was always ready to lend a helping hand to the one on the rung above him.

A lot of young girls together is a romantic secret thing like the first sight of wild ducks at dawn.

he wanted people to like his mind again-after awhile it might be such a nice place in which to live.

It was as if for the remainder of his life he was condemned to carry with him the egos of certain people, early met and early loved, and to be only as complete as they were complete themselves. There was some element of loneliness involved--so easy to be loved--so hard to love.

Then I grew up, and the beauty of succulent illusions fell away from me.