Writers Will Be Judged By What They

That's All We Have, Finally, The Words, And They Had Better Be The Right Ones.

I'm Moving To Nevada. Either There Or Kill Myself.

Something’s Died In Me,” She Goes. “it Took A Long Time For It To Do It, But It’s Dead. You’ve Killed Something, Just Like You’d Took An Axe To It. Everything Is Dirt Now.

This Is Awful. I Don't Know What's Going To Happen To Me Or To Anyone Else In The World.

And What Did You Want? To Call Myself Beloved, To Feel Myself Beloved On The Earth.