The silence between us was so profound I thought part of it must be my fault.

You have to be able to make a real creative life for Yourself, before you can expect anyone Else to provide one ready-made for you.

Yes, I was infatuated with you: I am still. No one has ever heightened such a keen capacity of physical sensation in me. I cut you out because I couldn't stand being a passing fancy. Before I give my body, I must give my thoughts, my mind, my dreams. And you weren't having any of those.

I collected men with interesting names. I already knew a Socrates. He was tall and ugly and intellectual and the son of some big Greek movie producer in Hollywood, but also a Catholic, which ruined it for both of us.

For the few little successes I may seem to have, there are acres of misgivings and self-doubt.

What did my fingers do before they held him? What did my heart do, with its love?

... stop trying to get me to write about 'decent courageous people' -- read the Ladies' Home Journal for those! ... I believe in going through and facing the worst, not hiding from it.