Everything In Life Is Writable.

I Feel, Am Mad As Any Writer Must In One Way Be; Why Not Make It Real? I Am Too Close To The Bourgeois Society Of Suburbia: Too Close To People I Know I Must Sever My Self From Them, Or Be A Part Of Their World: This Half And Half Compromise Is Intolerable.

I Woke To The Sound Of Rain.

We Walk The Plank With Strangers.

I Love Life. But It Is Hard And I Have So Much, So Very Much To Learn.

I Was My Own Woman. The Next Step Was To Find The Proper Sort Of Man.