“Feel oddly barren. My sickness is when words draw in their horns and the physical world refuses to be ordered, recreated, arranged and selected. I am a victim of it then, not a master.”
“I am barren of words. For no sounds from my mouth are worthy of your hearing”
“I am barren of words my female. For no sounds from my mouth are worthy of your hearing.”
“We’re going jogging.”“I don’t run for recreation. I run when someone’s after me with a weapon.”“That can be arranged,”
“I am a woman with a foot in both worlds; and I refuse the split. I feel the necessity for dialogue. Sometimes I feel it urgently.”
“In other words: It seems to me that I will always be happy in the place where I am not. Or, more bluntly: Wherever I am not is the place where I am myself. Or else, taking the bull by the horns: Anywhere out of the world.”