I am what I feel and think and do.

The first time I saw a fingerbowl was at the home of my benefactress. [...] The water had a few cherry blossoms in it, and I thought it must be some clear sort of Japanese after-dinner soup and ate every bit of it, including the crisp little blossoms.

I wanted change and excitement and to shoot off in all directions myself, like the colored arrows from a Fourth of July rocket.

I said: I must remember this, being small.

She stared at her reflection in the glossed shop windows as if to make sure, moment by moment, that she continued to exist.

When they asked me what I wanted to be I said I didn't know.

Sometimes I feel so stupid and dull and uncreative that I am amazed when people tell me differently.