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

Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you.

I can't think logically about who I am or where I am going. I have been very ecstatic, horribly depressed, shocked, elated, enlightened, and enervated.

I knew you'd decide to be all right again.

Why can’t I try on different lives, like dresses, to see which fits best and is more becoming?

I am terrified by this dark thing that sleeps in me.

If I didn’t think, I’d be much happier.