He Has, Like Me, A

I Don't Mind Working, Holding My Ground Intellectually, Artistically; But As A Woman, Oh, God, As A Woman I Want To Be Dominated

I Am Aware Of Being In A Beautiful Prison, From Which I Can Only Escape By Writing.

What A Mystery This Is, Desire. The Love Sickness, The Sensitivity, The Obsession, The Flutter Of The Heart, The Ebb And Flow Of The Blood. There Is No Drug And No Alcohol To Equal It.

Introspection Is A Devouring Monster.

Things Aren't The Way They Are, They're The Way You Are