The sickness rolled through me in great waves. After each wave it would fade away and leave me limp as a wet leaf and shivering all over and then I would feel it rising up in me again, and the glittering white torture chamber tiles under my feet and over my head and all four sides closed in and squeezed me to pieces.

... stop trying to get me to write about 'decent courageous people' -- read the Ladies' Home Journal for those! ... I believe in going through and facing the worst, not hiding from it.

I took a deep breath and listened to the old bray of my heart. I am. I am. I am.

The floor seemed wonderfully solid. It was comforting to know I had fallen and could fall no farther.

There is something demoralizing about watching two people get more and more crazy about each other, especially when you are the only extra person in the room.

I think the coming of spring, the stars overhead, the first snowfall and so on are gifts for a child, a young poet.

A black-sharded lady keeps me in a parrot cage.