Can a selfish egocentric jealous and unimaginative female write a damn thing worthwhile?

I'm doped and thick from my last sleeping pill.

But life is long. And it is the long run that balances the short flare of interest and passion.

There is no life higher than the grasstops

I think that as far as language goes I'm an American, I'm afraid, my accent is American, my way of talk is an American way of talk, I'm an old-fashioned American. That's probably one of the reasons why I'm in England now and why I'll always stay in England.

There is so much hurt in this game of searching for a mate, of testing, trying. And you realize suddenly that you forgot it was a game, and turn away in tears.

Widow. The word consumes itself.