I began to think vodka was my drink at last. It didn’t taste like anything, but it went straight down into my stomach like a sword swallowers’ sword and made me feel powerful and godlike.

If you dissect a bird / to diagram the tongue, / you'll cut the chord / articulating song.

Over coffee and orange juice the embryonic suicide brightens visibly.

Opinions are like orgasms...mine matters most and I really don't care if you have one.

A terrible depression yesterday. Visions of my life petering out into a kind of soft-brained stupor from lack of use.

Antoine St. Exupery once mourned the loss of a man and the secret treasures that he held inside him. I loved Exupery; I will read him again, and he will talk to me, not being dead, or gone. Is that life after death — mind living on paper and flesh living in offspring? Maybe. I do not know.

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