But it is good to be several floors up in the dead of night wondering whether you are any good or not and the only decision you can make is that you did it.

I wish I weren’t reeling at all.

That's not a run in your stocking, it's a hand on your leg.

There were occasionally rifts in the cloud where the face of a woman appeared, frowning.

My heart is in my/ pocket. It is poems by Pierre Reverdy.

Grace / to be born and live as variously as possible

I wonder if the course of narcissism through the ages would have been any different had Narcissus first peered into a cesspool. He probably did.