We Are Only An Instant, That's True.

Love Was Like That, Like A Dream You Didn't Quite Understand, One In Which You Didn't Necessarily Know What You Were Looking At Until It Was Right In Front Of You.

The Moon Is Always Jealous Of The Heat Of The Day, Just As The Sun Always Longs For Something Dark And Deep.

Avoid Men Who Call You Baby, And Women Who Have No Friends, And Dogs That Scratch At Their Bellies And Refuse To Lie Down At Your Feet. Wear Dark Glasses; Bathe With Lavender Oil And Cool Fresh Water. Seek Shelter From The Sun At Noon.

I Read Betty Smith's "a Tree Grows In Brooklyn," All Of Shirley Jackson's Books, Which I Loved.

Burn Me. Drown Me. Tell Me Lies. I Will Still Be Who I Am.