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.

This seemed a dreary and wasted life for a girl with fifteen years of straight A's, but I knew that's what marriage was like, because cook and clean and wash was just what Buddy Willard's mother did from morning till night, and she was the wife of a university professor and had been a private school teacher herself.

Cheers for spring; for life; for a growing soul.

I do not love; I do not love anybody except myself. That is a rather shocking thing to admit.

If the moon smiled, she would resemble you. You leave the same impression Of something beautiful, but annihilating.

God, it was good to let go, let the tight mask fall off, and the bewildered, chaotic fragments pour out. It was the purge, the catharsis.

Perhaps, perhaps this would be the one to pull me out of my plunge.