Love is a shadow. How you lie and cry after it

I was my own woman. The next step was to find the proper sort of man.

I like people, but to learn about one individual always appeals to me more than anything.

The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right, White as a knuckle and terribly upset. It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quiet With the O-gape of complete despair. I live here.

I am still so naïve; I know pretty much what I like and dislike; but please, don’t ask me who I am. A passionate, fragmentary girl, maybe?

When I fell out of the light, I entered The stomach of indifference, the wordless cupboard.

I had hoped, at my departure, I would feel sure and knowledgeable about everything that lay ahead -- after all, I had been "analyzed." Instead, all I could see were question marks.