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

One illusion is as good as another.

I wish I could write a beautiful book to break those hearts that are soon to cease to exist: a book of faith and small neat worlds and of people who live by the philosophies of popular songs.

Why should all life be work, when we all can borrow. Let's think only of today, and not worry about tomorrow.

Father said conflict develops the character

I take a sun bath and listen to the hours, formulating, and disintegrating under the pines, and smell the resiny hardihood of the high noon hours. The world is lost in a blue haze of distances, and the immediate sleeps in a thin and finite sun.

Love is bitter and all there is, and that the rest is for the emotional beggars of the earth.