You have to be able to make a real creative life for Yourself, before you can expect anyone Else to provide one ready-made for you.

I am afraid. I am not solid, but hollow. I feel behind my eyes a numb, paralyzed cavern, a pit of hell, a mimicking nothingness.

I smile, now, thinking: we all like to think we are important enough to need psychiatrists

Miracles occur, If you dare to call those spasmodic Tricks of radiance miracles. The wait's begun again, The long wait for the angel, For that rare, random descent.

Before I give my body, I must give my thoughts, my mind, my dreams.

I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, "This is what it is to be happy.

My mother said the cure for thinking too much about yourself was helping somebody who was worse off than you.