Next week, or next month, or next year I will kill myself. But I might as well last out my month’s rent, which has been paid up...
Blot out the moon, Pull down the stars. Love in the dark, for we’re for the dark So soon, so soon.
All of a writer that matters is in the book or books. It is idiotic to be curious about the person.
Have all beautiful things sad destinies?
I like shape very much. A novel has to have shape, and life doesn’t have any.
They say when trouble comes close ranks, and so the white people did.
I had two longings and one was fighting the other. I wanted to be loved and I wanted to be always alone.
I thought if I told no one it might not be true.
What I see is nothing – I want what it hides – that is not nothing.
I’ve had enough of these streets that sweat a cold, yellow slime, of hostile people, of crying myself to sleep every night. I’ve had enough of thinking, enough of remembering.
When you insult or injure the unfortunate or the unhappy, you insult Christ Himself and He will not forget, for they are His chosen ones.
Unhappily children do hurt flies.
May you tear each other to bits, you damned hyenas, and the quicker the better. Let it be destroyed. Let it happen. Let it end, this cold insanity.
There is no looking-glass here and I don’t know what I am like now. I remember watching myself brush my hair and how my eyes looked back at me. The girl I saw was myself yet not quite myself. Long ago when I was a child and very lonely I tried to kiss her. But the glass was between us – hard, cold and misted over with my breath. Now they have taken everything away. What am I doing in this place and who am I?
If this is a sad story, don’t tell it to me tonight.’‘It is not sad,’ she said. ‘Only some things happen and are there for always even though you forget why or when.
She was a shadow, kept alive by a flame of hatred for somebody who had long ago forgotten all about her.
Do you think that too,” she said, “that I have slept too long in the moonlight?
Lies are never forgotten, they go on and they grow.
I must remember about chandeliers and dancing, about swans and roses and snow.
Rain, forever raining. Drown me in sleep. And soon.