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Now and then, when I grow nostalgic about my ocean childhood - the wauling of gulls and the smell of salt, somebody solicitous will bundle me into a c...more

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Nick and the CandlestickI am a miner. The light burns blue. Waxy stalactitesDrip and thicken, tearsThe earthen wombExudes from its dead boredom. Black...more

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Between Sylvia and me there existed as between my own mother and me - a sort of psychic osmosis which, at times, was very wonderful and comforting; at...more

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I didn't want my picture taken because I was going to cry. I didn't know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at m...more

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I thought how strange it had never occurred to me before that I was only purely happy until I was nine years old.

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So I began to think maybe it was true that when you were married and had children it was like being brainwashed, and afterward you went about as numb ...more

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A little thing, like children putting flowers in my hair, can fill up the widening cracks in my self-assurance like soothing lanolin.