I See As Much As Doors'll Allow,

No Fear Or Shame In The Dignity Of Yr Experience, Language & Knowledge

We Were On The Roof Of America And All We Could Do Was Yell

You Don't Realize What A Strain It Is On The Nerves To Write Or Think-of-writing All Day Long, And To Sleep Full Of Nervous Dreams, And To Wake Up Not Knowing Who One Is: This All Stems From Anxiety About Finishing The Book, About Time 'growing Short', Etc., And The Perpetual Strain Of Invention.

One Day I Will Find The Right Words, And They Will Be Simple.

Some Of My Most Neurotically Fierce Bitterness Is The Result Of Realizing How Untrue People Have Become.