I Love The Rain. I Want The

... I'd Always Rather Be With People Who Loved Me Too Little Rather Than With People Who Loved Me Too Much.

I Don't Believe Other People Are Ever As Foolishly Excited As I Am While I'm Working. How Could They Be? Writers Would Have To Live In Trees.

What Is It With Me? Am I Absolutely Nobody, But Merely Inordinately Vain? I Do Not Know…. But I Am Most Fearfully Unhappy. That Is All. I Am So Unhappy That I Wish I Was Dead—yet I Should Be Mad To Die When I Have Not Yet Lived At All.

But The More Poetry One Reads The More One Longs To Read!

I Want To Be All That I Am Capable Of Becoming.