“Daily dawns another day;I must up, to make my way.Though I dress and drink and eat,Move my fingers and my feet,Learn a little, here and there,Weep and laugh and sweat and swear,Hear a song, or watch a stage,Leave some words upon a page,Claim a foe, or hail a friend-Bed awaits me at the end.”

“I take so little interest in my daily life, that I hardly remember to eat and drink.”

“If you want to marry me, here's what you'll have to do:You must learn how to make a perfect chicken-dumpling stew.And you must sew my holey socks,And soothe my troubled mind,And develop the knack for scratching my back,And keep my shoes spotlessly shined.And while I rest you must rake up the leaves,And when it is hailing and snowingYou must shovel the walk...and be still when I talk,And-hey-where are you going?”

“I exist, I am, I am here, I am becoming, I make my own life and no one else makes it for me. I must face my own shortcomings, mistakes, transgressions. No one can suffer my non-being as I do, but tomorrow is another day, and I must decide to leave my bed and live again. And if I fail, I don't have the comfort of blaming you or life or God. ”

“I have been here five days. I have decided on a place to eat in at midday, a place to eat in at night, a place to have my drink in after dinner. I have arranged my little life.”

“Then you can eat in bed.I'll make you a plate and-""And the day I eat in bed I better be dying.Food leaves crumbs.That brings bugs and I happen to hate sharing my bed with anyone.”