A psychiatrist is the god of our age. But they cost money.

I am terrified by this dark thing That sleeps in me; All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

I must not be selfless: develop a sense of self. A solidness that can't be attacked.

The tulips are too red...they hurt me.

But when I took up my pen, my hand made big, jerky letters like those of a child, and the lines sloped down the page from left to right horizontally, as if they were loops of string lying on the paper, and someone had come along and blown them askew.

When they asked me what I wanted to be I said I didn’t know. "Oh, sure you know," the photographer said. "She wants," said Jay Cee wittily, "to be everything.

She looks like a woman who has found it ridiculous to commit herself to a single emotional stance in anything, but must always ride high heavy irony.