Out of the ash I rise with my red hair and I eat men like air.

Apparently, the most difficult feat for a Cambridge male is to accept a woman not merely as feeling, not merely as thinking, but as managing a complex, vital interweaving of both.

Tomorrow I will curse the dawn, but there will be other, earlier nights, and the dawns will be no longer hell laid out in alarms and raw bells and sirens.

I drink sherry and wine by myself because I like it and I get the sensuous feeling of indulgence...luxury, bliss, erotic-tinged.

I, love, I am the pure acetylene virgin attended by roses.

You cannot regard your own life with objective curiosity all the time.

Death may whiten in sun or out of it.