What I hate is the thought of being under a man's thumb," I had told Doctor Nolan. "A man doesn't have a worry in the world, while I've got a baby hanging over my head like a big stick, to keep me in line.

All I want is blackness. Blackness and silence.

There is nothing like puking with somebody to make you into old friends.

Cold glass, how you insert yourself Between myself and myself. I scratch like a cat. The blood that runs is dark fruit- An effect, a cosmetic. You smile. No, it is not fatal.

If you dissect a bird / to diagram the tongue, / you'll cut the chord / articulating song.

I must not be selfless: develop a sense of self. A solidness that can't be attacked.

There is more than one good way to drown.