I know the bottom, she says. I know it with my great tap root: It is what you fear. I do not fear it: I have been there.

...we shall board our imagined ship and wildly sail among sacred islands of the mad till death shatters the fabulous stars and makes us real.

I suppose I'll always be over-vulnerable, slightly paranoid.

I couldn’t see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.

I want to become acutely aware of all I've taken for granted.

You walked in, laughing, tears welling confused, mingling in your throat. How can you be so many women to so many people, oh you strange girl?

The woman is perfected. Her dead Body wears the smile of accomplishment.