I like you, but not too much. I don’t want to like anybody too much.

The one man in the room who was as big as his poems, huge, with hulk and dynamic chunks of words.

Tonight I am ugly. I have lost all faith in my ability to attract males, and in the female animal that is a rather pathetic malady . . . I don't care about anyone, and the feeling is quite obviously mutual. What is it that makes one attract others?

If only I can find him... the man who will be intelligent, yet physically magnetic and personable. If I can offer that combination, why shouldn't I expect it in a man?

Bright beads of red are rising through the ink, Hearts-blood bubbles smearing out into the black stream

I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting in between.

If every soldier refused to take arms ... there would be no wars; but no one has the courage to be the first to live according to Christ and Socrates, because in a world of opportunists they would be martyred.