If Doctor Nolan asked me for the matches, I would say that I'd thought they were made of candy and had eaten them.

I need not to be more with others, but to be more & more deeply, richly alone. Recreating worlds.

Let me sit in a flowerpot, The spiders won't notice. My heart is a stopped geranium.

God, if ever I have come close to wanting to commit suicide, it is now, with the groggy sleepless blood dragging through my veins, and the air thick and gray with rain ... I fell into bed again this morning, begging for sleep, withdrawing into the dark, warm, fetid escape from action, from responsibility. No good.

I think I am worthwhile just because I have optical nerves and can try to put down what they perceive. What a fool!

If only I knew what I wanted I could try to see about getting it.

So you got rid of your astonishment that someone could write so much more dynamically than you. You stopped cherishing your aloneness and poetic differentness to your delicately flat little bosom. You said: she's to good to forget. How about making her a friend and competitor — you could learn alot from her. So you'll try. So maybe she'll laugh in your face. So maybe she'll beat you hollow in the end. So anyhow, you'll try, and maybe, possibly, she can stand you. Here's hoping!