I was very much disappointed in the Atlantic Ocean.
I inhabit the wax image of myself, a doll's body. Sickness begins here; I am a dartboard for witches.
Go out and do something. It isn’t your room that’s a prison, it’s yourself.
That is salvation. To give of love inside. To keep love of life, no matter what, and give to others. Generously.
I have never found anybody who could stand to accept the daily demonstrative love I feel in me, and give back as good as I give.
Happy! That is indefinable as far as states of being go.
If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter - - - for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. . . . Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.
In the short stories - if I can make a very lumpy contrast - in the short stories I feel like the lives of the people have a kind of prior desperation and a prior need and my longing is for the story and their lives to somehow come together, even if not finally or forever, to face something; and it felt like a lot of the time with the essays I was wading into situations where there was an assumption of finality of understanding, and I felt like I could wade into any understood moment and tear it apart and make it fall apart.
Did you ever hear about the rock and roll singer who got 3 or 4 Cadillacs, saying power to the people, dance to the music, wants you to pat him on the back.
You want to make your own decisions, but you ought to make those decisions with an eternal perspective.
If we behave like those on the other side, then we are the other side. Instead of changing the world, all we'll achieve is a reflection of the one we want to destroy.