I felt like a racehorse in a world without racetracks.
I didn’t know what I was doing in New York.
I’ve got to have something. I want to stop it all, the whole monumental grotesque joke, before it’s too late. But writing poems and letters doesn’t seem to do much good.
O heart, such disorganization!
I have the one person I could ever love in this world. Now I must work to be a person worthy of that.
You’ve only got so long to live.
Every day is precious and I feel infinitely sad at this time melting away from me.
Miracles occur, If you dare to call those spasmodic Tricks of radiance miracles. The wait’s begun again, The long wait for the angel, For that rare, random descent.
I ride earth’s burning carousel. Day in, day out.
I deserve that, don’t I, some sort of blazing love that I can live with.
It’s a hell of a responsibility to be yourself. It’s much easier to be somebody else or nobody at all.
I do not know who I am, where I am going – and I am the one who has to decide the answers to these hideous questions.
Death may whiten in sun or out of it.
Pretty soon, the only doubt in my mind was the precise time and method of committing suicide. The only alternative I could see was an eternity of hell for the rest of my life in a mental hospital, and I was going to use my last ounce of free choice and choose a quick clean ending.
I’m sarcastic, skeptical, and sometimes callous because I’m still afraid, deep down, of letting myself be hurt.
I am I-I am powerful, but to what extent? I am I.
I can’t think logically about who I am or where I am going. I have been very ecstatic, horribly depressed, shocked, elated, enlightened, and enervated.
In spite of everything, I still have my good old sense of humor.
I want, I think, to be omniscient. I think I would like to call myself “the girl who wanted to be God.” Yet if I were not in this body where would I be-perhaps I am destined to be classified and qualified. But, oh, I cry out against it.
The one man in the room who was as big as his poems, huge, with hulk and dynamic chunks of words.