You Don't Find Love, It Finds You.

He Does Not Need Opium. He Has The Gift Of Reverie.

My Life Is Not Possible To Tell. I Change Every Day, Change My Patterns, My Concepts, My Interpretations. I Am A Series Of Moods And Sensations. I Play A Thousand Roles. I Weep When I Find Others Play Them For Me. My Real Self Is Unknown. My Work Is Merely An Essence Of This Vast And Deep Adventure.

We Travel, Some Of Us Forever, To Seek Other States, Other Lives, Other Souls.

My Diary Seems To Keep Me Whole.

Often, Though, The Passivity Of The Woman's Role Weighs On Me, Suffocates Me. Rather Than Wait For His Pleasure, I Would Like To Take It, To Run Wild. Is It That Which Pushes Me Into Lesbianism? It Terrifies Me. Do Women Act Thus? Does June Go To Henry When She Wants Him? Does She Mount Him? Does She Wait For Him? He Guides My Inexperienced Hands. It Is Like A Forest Fire, To Be With Him. New Places Of My Body Are Aroused And Burnt. He Is Incendiary. I Leave Him In An Unquenchable Fever.