“This is a strong magic. This is a sententious magic. They had warned me that I would here face my own destruction, that I would here face the most pitiable and terrible of all things: and I face here that which I have made of life, and life of me. I shudder; I am conscious of every appropriate sentiment. Nevertheless, sir, I must venture the suggestion that mere, explicit allegory as a form of art is somewhat obsolete.”

“My life has made me
Stronger.
I never knew that I had it inside me
to move up from the ashes.
My life is a victory…I am not a victim.
I have been through the worst situations
and
am still here.”

“Of all the clever people round me here
I most delight in Me –
Mine is the only voice I care to hear,
And mine the only face I like to see.”

“We're all a mishmash of extremes. I know that I have demons. I don't know if I want to get rid of them altogether, but I would like to experience them in a different way. Maybe go face to face with them. I've never really had the time to go to therapy. Well, here and there. But not enough to help me.”

“You would rather face a life without me than to have me choose a life I would not choose for myself.”

“Oh I’m on my way, I know I am,
Somewhere not so far from here
All I know is all I feel right now,
I feel the power growing in my hair
Sitting on my own not by myself,
Everybody’s here with me
I don’t need to touch your face to know,
And I don’t need to use my eyes to see”

“Had I not had the childhood I did, would these traits not be so at the forefront of my personality? Who knows? All I know is that I am the product of all the experiences I have had, good and bad, and if I am in a happy place in my life (as I truly am), then I can have no regrets about any of the combination of events and circumstances that have led me to the here and now.”

“I wish, sir, you would practice this without me. I can't stay dying here all night.”

“I have had a life in which I have had to face every big fear, and it has not been pleasant.”

“Why?’ My mother’s question hangs in the still air of memory. The loneliness I have felt many mornings, however, has not made me forget that I am engaged in a highly public activity. I sit here in silence writing this small volume of words, and it seems to me the most public thing I ever have done. My mother’s letter has served to remind me: I am making my personal life public. Probably I will never try to explain my motives to my mother and father. My mother’s question will go unanswered to her face.”