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

I laid my face to the smooth face of the marble and howled my loss into the cold salt rain.

I thought the most beautiful thing in the world must be shadow, the million moving shapes and cul-de-sacs of shadow. There was shadow in bureau drawers and closets and suitcases, and shadow under houses and trees and stones, and shadow at the back of people's eyes and smiles, and shadow, miles and miles and miles of it, on the night side of the earth.

Yes, there is joy, fulfillment and companionship but the loneliness of the soul in its appalling self-consciousness is horrible and overpowering.

If only a group of people were more important to me than the idea of a Novel, I might begin a novel.

I am silver and exact.I have no preconceptions.

You know what lies are for.