We must be moving, working, making dreams to run toward; the poverty of life without dreams is too horrible to imagine.

I want to force myself again and again to leave the warmth and security of static situations and move into the world of growth and suffering where the real books are people's minds and souls.

I thought how strange it had never occurred to me before that I was only purely happy until I was nine years old.

God, is this all it is, the ricocheting down the corridor of laughter and tears? Of self-worship and self-loathing? Of glory and disgust?

God, it was good to let go, let the tight mask fall off, and the bewildered, chaotic fragments pour out. It was the purge, the catharsis.

I do not love; I do not love anybody except myself. That is a rather shocking thing to admit.

Doreen had intuition. Everything she said was like a secret voice speaking straight out of my own bones.