when I first began this diary I said I would give a record of my inner life. I begin to wonder if I have said anything about my inner life. What if I have no inner life?

Very often the law of extremity demands an attention to irrelevance.

From the first place of liquid darkness, within the second place of air and light, I set down the following record with its mixture of fact and truths and memories of truths and its direction toward the Third Place, where the starting point is myth.

But it is imperative, for our own survival, that we avoiid one another, and what more successful means of avoidance are there than words? Language will keep us safe from human onslaught, will express for us our regret at being unable to supply groceries or love or peace.

There is no past or future. Using tenses to divide time is like making chalk marks on water.

All writers are exiles wherever they live and their work is a lifelong journey towards the lost land.

I am not really a writer. I am just someone who is haunted, and I will write the hauntings down.