What a man wants is a mate and what a woman wants is infinite security.

I had imagined a kind, ugly, intuitive man looking up and say, 'Ah!' in an encouraging way, as if he could see something I couldn't, and then I would find words to tell him how I was so scared, as if I were being stuffed farther and farther into a black, airless sack with no way out.

Nothing stinks like a pile of unpublished writing.

Your body Hurts me as the world hurts God

Maybe forgetfulness, like a kind snow, should numb and cover them. But they were a part of me. They were my landscape.

If you pluck out my heart To find what makes it move, You’ll halt the clock That syncopates our love.

So, now I shall talk every night. To myself. To the moon. I shall walk, as I did tonight, jealous of my loneliness, in the blue-silver of the cold moon, shining brilliantly on the drifts of fresh-fallen snow, with the myriad sparkles. I talk to myself and look at the dark trees, blessedly neutral. So much easier than facing people, than having to look happy, invulnerable, clever.