Kiss me and you will see how important I am.

Sunday-the doctor's paradise! Doctors at country clubs, doctors at the seaside, doctors with mistresses, doctors with wives, doctors in church, doctors in yachts, doctors everywhere resolutely being people, not doctors.

I think I made you up inside my head.

The man creates a pseudonym and hides behind it like a worm

Backward we traveled to reclaim the day Before we fell, like Icarus, undone; All we find are altars in decay And profane words scrawled black across the sun.

It was my last act of love (first words to her mother in the hospital after her first major suicide attempt)

I would say everything should be able to come into a poem, but I can't put toothbrushes into a poem, I really can't!