Is anyone anywhere happy?

If you pluck out my heart To find what makes it move, You’ll halt the clock That syncopates our love.

You walked in, laughing, tears welling confused, mingling in your throat. How can you be so many women to so many people, oh you strange girl?

Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.

What is so real as the cry of a child? A rabbit's cry may be wilder But it has no soul.

This seemed a dreary and wasted life for a girl with fifteen years of straight A's, but I knew that's what marriage was like, because cook and clean and wash was just what Buddy Willard's mother did from morning till night, and she was the wife of a university professor and had been a private school teacher herself.

I've got to have something. I want to stop it all, the whole monumental grotesque joke, before it's too late. But writing poems and letters doesn't seem to do much good.