That is salvation. To give of love inside. To keep love of life, no matter what, and give to others. Generously.

I couldn’t see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.

I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting in between.

The lawn was white with doctors

So many people are shut up tight inside themselves like boxes, yet they would open up, unfolding quite wonderfully, if only you were interested in them.

Do I like to write? Why? About what? Will I give up and say, "Living and feeding a man's insatiable guts and begetting children occupies my whole life. Don't have time to write"?

I do not know who I am, where I am going - and I am the one who has to decide the answers to these hideous questions.