“My dreams were all my own; I accounted for them to nobody; they were my refuge when annoyed - my dearest pleasure when free.”
“. . .my dreams are the single unpredictable factor in my zoned days and nights. Nobody allots them, or censors them. Dreams are all I have ever truly owned.”
“... I wrote about ... my childhood, when dreams were small and attainable for all. When sweets were a penny and god was a rabbit.”
“I knew I was in trouble when all of my dreams were either about dying, or kissing you.”
“Me, when I'm utterly exhausted by it all, when my skin breaks out, on those lonely evenings when I call my friends again and again and nobody's home, then I despise my own life - my birth, my upbringing, everything.”