Look closer and you'll see something extraordinary, mystifying, something real and true. We have never been what we seemed.

Maybe other people's ideas of us are truer than our own.

Other people's ideas of us are dependent largely on what they've hoped for.

The sky lay over the city like a map showing the strata of things and the big full moon toppled over in a furrow like the abandoned wheel of a gun carriage on a sunset field of battle and the shadows walked like cats and I looked into the white and ghostly interior of things and thought of you and I looked on their structural outsides and thought of you and was lonesome.

without you, dearest dearest I couldn't see or hear or feel or think - or live - I love you so and I'm never in all our lives going to let us be apart another night.

I don't want to live. I want to love first, and live incidentally.

I am really only myself when I'm somebody else whom I have endowed with these wonderful qualities from my imagination.