I Want To Be Silverly Beautiful.

I Knew You'd Decide To Be All Right Again.

I Have The One Person I Could Ever Love In This World. Now I Must Work To Be A Person Worthy Of That.

My Wanting To Write Books Annihilates The Original Root Impulse That Would Have Me Bravely And Blunderingly Working On Them.

I Deserve That, Don't I, Some Sort Of Blazing Love That I Can Live With.

Tonight I Am Ugly. I Have Lost All Faith In My Ability To Attract Males, And In The Female Animal That Is A Rather Pathetic Malady . . . I Don't Care About Anyone, And The Feeling Is Quite Obviously Mutual. What Is It That Makes One Attract Others?