Everything people did seemed so silly, because they only died in the end.

Can a selfish egocentric jealous and unimaginative female write a damn thing worthwhile?

I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted to lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty. How free it is, you have no idea how free.

The truth comes to me. The truth loves me.

I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it.

Is it the sea you hear in me? Its dissatisfactions? Or the voice of nothing, that was your madness? Love is a shadow. How you lie and cry after it.

Let me live, love and say it well in good sentences.