Doing all the little tricky things it takes to grow up, step by step, into an anxious and unsettling world.

Let me not be weak and tell others how bleeding I am internally; how day by day it drips, and gathers, and congeals.

I have a violence in me that is hot as death-blood.

I am made, crudely, for success.

And the danger is that in this move toward new horizons and far directions, that I may lose what I have now, and not find anything except loneliness

I am what I feel and think and do.

Why honey, don't you want to get dressed?" My mother took care never to tell me to do anything. She would only reason with me sweetly, like one intelligent, mature person with another. It's almost three in the afternoon." I'm writing a novel," I said. "I haven't got time to change into this and change into that.