I, to you, am lost in the gorgeous errors of flesh.

Every day is precious and I feel infinitely sad at this time melting away from me.

...we shall board our imagined ship and wildly sail among sacred islands of the mad till death shatters the fabulous stars and makes us real.

I need more than anything right now what is, of course, most impossible, someone to love me, to be with me at night when I wake up in shuddering horror and fear of the cement tunnels leading down to the shock room, to comfort me with an assurance that no psychiatrist can quite manage to convey.

Hour by hour, day by day, life becomes possible.

Even amidst fierce flames the golden lotus can be planted.

She looks like a woman who has found it ridiculous to commit herself to a single emotional stance in anything, but must always ride high heavy irony.