I don't know, I don't care, and it doesn't make any difference.

I want to marry a [guy], so i can rest my soul with [him] till we both get old. This can't go on all the time-- all this franticness and jumping around. We've got to go someplace, find something.

I was suddenly left with nothing in my hands but a handful of crazy stars.

That's the story of my life rich or poor and mostly poor and truly poor.

It is not my fault that certain so-called bohemian elements have found in my writings something to hang their peculiar beatnik theories on.

I promise I shall never give up, and that I'll die yelling and laughing, and that until then I'll rush around this world I insist is holy and pull at everyone's lapel and make them confess to me and to all.

It always makes me proud to love the world somehow- hate's so easy compared.