I may never be happy, but tonight I am content.

I get into a rut, unable to yank my mind out of it.

I love people. Everybody. I love them, I think, as a stamp collector loves his collection. Every story, every incident, every bit of conversation is raw material for me.

I want to taste and glory in each day, and never be afraid to experience pain; and never shut myself up in a numb core of nonfeeling, or stop questioning and criticizing life and take the easy way out. To learn and think: to think and live; to live and learn: this always, with new insight, new understanding, and new love.

I think I made you up inside my head.

It is so much safer not to feel, not to let the world touch me.

Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you.