The probability of separate worlds meeting is very small. The lure of it is immense. We send starships. We fall in love.

I know from my own experience that suicide is not what it seems. Too easy to try to piece together the fragmented life. The spirit torn in bits so that the body follows.

Infatuation.First Love.Lust.My passion can be explained away.But this is sure: Whatever she touches, she reveals

There are so many separate selves; no one who writes creatively hasn't felt that.

Yes, we are [friends] and I do like to pass the day with you in serious and inconsequential chatter. I wouldn't mind washing up beside you, dusting beside you, reading the back half of the paper while you read the front. We are friends and I would miss you, do miss you and think of you very often. I don't want to lose this happy space where I have found someone who is smart and easy and doesn't bother to check their diary when we arrange to meet.

I find pieces of myself everywhere, and I cut myself handling them.

Art can make a difference because it pulls people up short. It says, don't accept things for their face value; you don't have to go along with any of this; you can think for yourself.