I think writers are the most narcissistic people. Well, I musn't say this, I like many of them, a great many of my friends are writers.

I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life.

I cut you out because I couldn't stand being a passing fancy.

I'm doped and thick from my last sleeping pill.

I felt myself melting into the shadows like the negative of a person I'd never seen before in my life.

Some pale, hueless flicker of sensitivity is in me. God, must I lose it in cooking scrambled eggs for a man.

I have never found anybody who could stand to accept the daily demonstrative love I feel in me, and give back as good as I give.