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"All I want is blackness. Blackness and silence."
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"One of the things you could do with your time is to convert it into a treasure and that treasure is called solitude."
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Personal Development
"In solitude, you will find the soul."
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Personal Development
"Sickness awakens sadness sleeps- Moments of aloneness results into peace."
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Personal Development
"When alone, concentrate on the fruits of the solitude, not on the poisons of it!"
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Personal Development
"A time of solitude will always produce some fruits."
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Personal Development
"Solitude with God is a place for pregnancy."
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Personal Development
"In solitude, you listen to the sacred voice."
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Personal Development
"Solitude is independence."
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Personal Development
"Sometimes solitude is a real heaven for the tired minds and a marvellous sanctuary for the wounded souls!"
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Personal Development
"A wounded heart needs aloof."
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"Nothing stinks like a pile of unpublished writing."
Writing
"I moved in front of the medicine cabinet. If I looked in the mirror while I did it, it would be like watching somebody else, in a book or a play."
Identity
"Then it hit me and I just blurted, 'I like people too much or not at all. I've got to go down deep, to fall into people, to really know them."
Relationship
"I have a visual imagination."
Creativity
"All, all, becomes profitable. Education is of the most satisfying and available nature. I am at Smith! Which two years ago was a doubtful dream - and that fortuitous change of dream to reality has led me to desire more, and to lash myself onward - onward."
Education
"Slowly I swam up from the bottom of a black sleep."
Healing
"What obsession do men have for destruction and murder? Who do we electrocute men for murdering an individual and then pin a purple heart on them for mass slaughter of someone arbitrarily labeled 'enemy?"
War
"I don't see what women see in other women," I'd told Doctor Nolan in my interview that noon. "What does a woman see in a woman that she can't see in a man?"Doctor Nolan paused. Then she said, "Tenderness."
Emotion
"Brave love, dreamnot of staunching such strict flame, but come,lean to my wound; burn on, burn on."
Love
"Poppies in JulyLittle poppies, little hell flames,Do you do no harm?You flicker. I cannot touch you.I put my hands among the flames. Nothing burns.And it exhausts me to watch youFlickering like that, wrinkly and clear red, like the skin of a mouth.A mouth just bloodied.Little bloody skirts!There are fumes that I cannot touch.Where are your opiates, your nauseous capsules?If I could bleed, or sleep!If my mouth could marry a hurt like that!Or your liquors seep to me, in this glass capsule,Dulling and stilling.But colorless. Colorless."
Poetry
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