Nothing stinks like a pile of unpublished writing, which remark I guess shows I still don't have a pure motive (O it's-such-fun-I-just-can't-stop-who-cares-if-it's-published-or-read) about writing.

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

I am terrified by this dark thing That sleeps in me; All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

I think I am worthwhile just because I have optical nerves and can try to put down what they perceive. What a fool!

I didn't really see why people should look at me. Plenty of people looked queerer than I did.

Your body Hurts me as the world hurts God

I am afraid of getting older … I am afraid of getting married. Spare me from cooking three meals a day—spare me from the relentless cage of routine and rote. I want to be free…. I want, I want to think, to be omniscient…. I think I would like to call myself ‘The girl who wanted to be God.