As long as I live under the capitalistic system I expect to have my life influenced by the demands of moneyed people. But I will be damned if I propose to be at the beck and call of every itinerant scoundrel who has two cents to invest in a postage stamp. This$$$ sir$$$ is my resignation.

But peace is my heart: I know it is.

At one time I thought the most important thing was talent. I think now that the young man or the young woman must possess or teach himself$$$ train himself$$$ in infinite patience$$$ which is to try and to try and to try until it comes right. He must train himself in ruthless intolerance. That is$$$ to throw away anything that is false no matter how much he might love that page or that paragraph. The most important thing is insight$$$ that is ... curiosity to wonder$$$ to mull$$$ and to muse why it is that man does what he does.

She clung to that which had robbed her$$$ as people do.

In the South you are ashamed of being a virgin. Boys. Men. They lie about it. Because it means less to women$$$ Father said. He said it was men invented virginity not women. Father said it's like death: only a state in which the others are left and I said$$$ But to believe it doesn't matter and he said$$$ That's what's so sad about anything: not only virginity and I said$$$ Why couldn't it have been me and not her who is unvirgin and he said$$$ That's why that's sad too; nothing is even worth the changing of it...

Father was teaching us that all men are just accumulations dolls stuffed with sawdust swept up from the trash heaps where all previous dolls had been thrown away the sawdust flowing from what wound in what side that not for me died not.

Well$$$ Bud$$$" he said$$$ looking at me$$$ "I'll be damned if you don't go to a lot of trouble to have your fun. Kidnapping$$$ then fighting. What do you do on your holidays? Burn houses?

I$$$ the dreamer clinging yet to the dream as the patient clings to the last thin unbearable ecstatic instant of agony in order to sharpen the savor of the pains surcease$$$ waking into the reality$$$ the more than reality$$$ not to the unchanged and unaltered old time but into a time altered to fit the dream which$$$ conjunctive with the dreamer$$$ becomes immolated and apotheosized.

I had learned a little about writing from Soldier's Pay - how to approach language$$$ words: not with seriousness so much as an essayist does$$$ but with a kind of alert respect$$$ as you approach dynamite; even with joy$$$ as you approach women: perhaps with the same secretly unscrupulous intentions.

When the switch fell I could feel it upon my flesh; when it welted and ridged it was my blood that ran$$$ and I would think with each blow of the switch: Now you are aware of me! Now I am something in your secret and selfish life$$$ who have marked your blood with my own for ever and ever.