My Imagination Functions Much Better

Then Carol Slipped Her Arm Under Her Neck, And All The Length Of Their Bodies Touched Fitting As If Something Had Prearranged It. Happiness Was Like A Green Vine Spreading Through Her, Stretching Fine Tendrils, Bearing Flowers Through Her Flesh. She Had A Vision Of A Pale White Flower, Shimmering As If Seen In Darkness, Or Through Water. Why Did People Talk Of Heaven, She Wondered

I Should Love To Do A Novel, About One Abnormal Character Seeing Present-day Life, Very Ordinary Life, Yet Arresting Through It, Abnormality, Until At The End The Reader Sees, And With Little Reluctance, That He Is Not Abnormal At All, And That The Main Character Might As Well Be Himself.

I Think People Often Try To Find Through Sex Things That Are Much Easier To Find In Other Ways.

My New Year’s Eve Toast: To All The Devils, Lusts, Passions, Greeds, Envies, Loves, Hates, Strange Desires, Enemies Ghostly And Real, The Army Of Memories, With Which I Do Battle — May They Never Give Me Peace. (new Year's Eve, 1947)

One Situation – Maybe One Alone – Could Drive Me To Murder: Family Life, Togetherness.