And the danger is that in this move toward new horizons and far directions, that I may lose what I have now, and not find anything except loneliness

I thought if only I had a keen, shapely bone structure to my face or could discuss politics shrewdly or was a famous writer Constantin might find me interesting enough to sleep with. And then I wondered if as soon as he came to like me he would sink into ordinariness, and if as soon as he came to love me I would find fault, the way I did with Buddy Willard and the boys before him.

There is a certain clinical satisfaction in seeing just how bad things can get.

I thought the most beautiful thing in the world must be shadow.

You ask me why I spend my life writing? Do I find entertainment? Is it worthwhile? Above all, does it pay? If not, then, is there a reason?... I write only because there is a voice within me. That will not be still.

Beached under the spumy blooms, we lie Sea-sick and fever-dry.

Stars open among the lilies. Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens? This is the silence of astounded souls.