I deserve that, don't I, some sort of blazing love that I can live with.

A psychiatrist is the god of our age. But they cost money.

Poetry, I feel, is a tyrannical discipline. You've got to go so far, so fast, in such a small space, that you've got to burn away all the peripherals.

I think I am mad sometimes.

The tulips are too red...they hurt me.

I began to see why woman-haters could make such fools of women. Woman-haters were like gods: invulnerable and chock full of power. They descended, and then they disappeared. You could never catch one.

I felt dull and flat and full of shattered visions.