So I kiss him, and there is the great dark sea ahead.

You are the one. Solid the spaces lean on, envious. You are the baby in the barn.

The reason I haven't been writing in this book for so long is partly that I haven't had one decent coherent thought to put down.

What is my life for and what am I going to do with it? I don't know and I'm afraid. I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want.

How can you be so many women to so many strange people, oh you strange girl?

Here I am, a bundle of past recollections and future dreams, knotted up in a reasonably attractive bundle of flesh. I remember what this flesh has gone through; I dream of what it may go through.

If they substituted the word 'Lust' for 'Love' in the popular songs it would come nearer the truth.