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

It was my last act of love (first words to her mother in the hospital after her first major suicide attempt)

I had always imagined myself hitching up on to my elbows on the delivery table after it was all over - dead white, of course, with no makeup and from the awful ordeal, but smiling and radiant, with my hair down to my waist, and reaching out for my first little squirmy child and saying its name, whatever it was.

I am not cruel, only truthful.

Intoxicated with madness, I'm in love with my sadness

Mother of otherness, Eat me.

I love my rejection slips. They show me I try.