And I a smiling woman. I am only thirty. And like the cat I have nine times to die.

Happy! That is indefinable as far as states of being go.

I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted to lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty. How free it is, you have no idea how free.

I smile, now, thinking: we all like to think we are important enough to need psychiatrists

The trouble was, I had been inadequate all along, I simply hadn't thought about it.

This is newness: every little tawdry Obstacle glass-wrapped and peculiar, Glinting and clinking in a saint's falsetto. Only you Don't know what to make of the sudden slippiness, The blind, white, awful, inaccessible slant. There's no getting up it by the words you know. No getting up by elephant or wheel or shoe. We have only come to look. You are too new To want the world in a glass hat.

I collect men with interesting names.