The thing about writing is not to talk, but to do it; no matter how bad or even mediocre it is, the process and production is the thing, not the sitting and theorizing about how one should write ideally, or how well one could write if one really wanted to or had the time.

Stars open among the lilies. Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens? This is the silence of astounded souls.

Please don’t expect me to always be good and kind and loving. There are times when I will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand.

I’d discovered, after a lot of extreme apprehension about what spoons to use, that if you do something incorrect at table with a certain arrogance, as if you knew perfectly well you were doing it properly, you can get away with it and nobody will think you are bad-mannered or poorly brought up. They will think you are original and very witty.

How can you be so many women to so many strange people, oh you strange girl?

So learn about life. Cut yourself a big slice with the silver server, a big slice of pie. Open your eyes. Let life happen.

All I want is blackness. Blackness and silence.