Remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I’ve taken for granted.

The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right, White as a knuckle and terribly upset. It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.

O love, how did you get here?

The reason I haven't been writing in this book for so long is partly that I haven't had one decent coherent thought to put down.

I wondered what I thought I was burying.

Hour by hour, day by day, life becomes possible.

I said: I must remember this, being small.