They think my mother's ashes are marijuana.

Indifference and pride look very much alike, and he probably thought I was proud.

Pity is cruel. Pity destroys.

Eternity is said not to be an extension of time but an absence of time, and sometimes it seemed to me that her abandonment touched that strange mathematical point of endlessness, a point with no width, occupying no space.

I'm tired and I'm sick to death of being without you.

I say that home is where there is a chair and a glass.

Yesterday I went home with him and we did the usual things. I haven't the nerve to put them down, but I'd like to, because now when I'm writing it's already tomorrow and I'm afraid of getting to the end of yesterday. As long as I go on writing, yesterday is today and we are still together