I am jealous of those who think more deeply, who write better, who draw better, who ski better, who look better, who live better, who love better than I.

If you love her", I said, "you'll love somebody else someday.

I wanted change and excitement and to shoot off in all directions myself, like the colored arrows from a Fourth of July rocket.

To learn and think; to think and live; to live and learn: this always, with new insight, new understanding, and new love.

I don't know how long I kept at it... I felt reasonably safe, streched out on the floor, and lay quite still. It didn't seem to be summer any more

I suppose I'll always be over-vulnerable, slightly paranoid.

That afternoon my mother had brought me the roses. "Save them for my funeral," I'd said.