A ring of gold with the sun in it? Lies. Lies and a grief.

There is nothing like puking with somebody to make you into old friends.

When you are insane, you are busy being insane-all the time ... when I was crazy, that was all I was.

I felt like a racehorse in a world without racetracks.

I must say what I admire most is the person who masters an area of practical experience, and can teach me something. I mean, my local midwife has taught me how to keep bees. Well, she can't understand anything I write. And I find myself liking her, may I say, more than most poets. And among my friends I find people who know all about boats or know all about certain sports, or how to cut somebody open and remove an organ. I'm fascinated by this mastery of the practical.

Before I give my body, I must give my thoughts, my mind, my dreams.

Nothing is real except the present, and already, I feel the weight of centuries smothering me. Some girl a hundred years ago once lived as I do. And she is dead. I am the present, but I know I, too, will pass. The high moment, the burning flash, come and are gone, continuous quicksand. And I don’t want to die.