This is a free country. Folks have a right to send me letters, and I have a right not to read them.

Only when the clock stops does time come to life

…I seemed to be lying neither asleep nor awake looking down a long corridor of gray half light where all stable things had become shadowy paradoxical all I had done shadows all I had felt suffered taking visible form antic and perverse mocking without relevance inherent themselves with the denial of the significance they should have affirmed thinking I was I was not who was not was not who.

I feel like a wet seed wild in the hot blind earth.

It's all now you see: tomorrow began yesterday and yesterday won't be over until tomorrow.

I had learned a little about writing from Soldier's Pay - how to approach language, words: not with seriousness so much as an essayist does, but with a kind of alert respect, as you approach dynamite; even with joy, as you approach women: perhaps with the same secretly unscrupulous intentions.

She clung to that which had robbed her, as people do.