The Suppression Of Inner Patterns In Favor

I Want To Live Darkly And Richly In My Femaleness.

One Handles Truths Like Dynamite. Literature Is One Vast Hypocrisy, A Giant Deception, Treachery. All Writers Have Concealed More Than They Revealed.

I Postpone Death By Living, By Suffering, By Error, By Risking, By Giving, By Losing.

Everything But Happiness Is Neurosis.

I Am Only Responsible For My Own Heart, You Offered Yours Up For The Smashing My Darling. Only A Fool Would Give Out Such A Vital Organ