Over coffee and orange juice the embryonic suicide brightens visibly.

My mother said the cure for thinking too much about yourself was helping somebody who was worse off than you.

And the danger is that in this move toward new horizons and far directions, that I may lose what I have now, and not find anything except loneliness

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

One thing, I try to be honest. And what is revealed is often rather hideously unflattering.

The only thing I could think of was turkey neck and turkey gizzards and I felt very depressed.

I hate Technicolor. Everybody in a Technicolor movie seems to feel obliged to wear a lurid costume in each new scene and to stand around like a clotheshorse with a lot of very green trees or very yellow wheat or very blue ocean rolling away for miles and miles in every direction.