It's been a long time since I've been me.

Wasting time has an esthetics to it.

Direct experience is the evasion, or hiding place of those devoid of imagination.

Never having discovered qualities in myself which could attract someone else, I could never believe that anyone felt attracted to me.

To say! To know how to say! To know how to exist via the written voice and the intellectual image! This is all that matters in life; the rest is men and women, imagined loves and factitious vanities, the wiles of our digestion and forgetfulness, people squirming — like worms when a rock is lifted — under the huge abstract boulder of the meaningless blue sky.

I know nothing and my heart aches

To kill our dream life would be to kill ourselves, to mutilate our soul. Dreaming is the one thing we have that's really ours, invulnerably and inalterably ours.