My problem is I can think whatever I think—girl power, solidarity, Gloria Steinem rah rah rah — but I still feel the way I feel. Which is jealous. And pissy about little things.
I am not of that feather, to shake off my friend when he must need me
The Eyes are the window to your soul
What a terrible era in which idiots govern the blind.
There are three people in yourself - who people think you are, who you think you are, and who you really are.
New friends may be poems but old friends are alphabets. Don't forget the alphabets because you will need them to read the poems.
If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?
Different portions of the brain all look for information (sexual, intuitive, practical), through modes so torturous, a first date can feel like a cross between having a pelvic examination while applying for a small business loan. First dates should require anesthesia, and in some states they do.
People sometimes say I broke an oath of secrecy - one of the early charges leveled against me. But it's a fundamental misunderstanding, because there is no oath of secrecy for people who work in the intelligence community. You are asked to sign a civil agreement, called a Standard Form 312, which basically says if you disclose classified information, they can sue you; they can do this, that and the other. And you risk going to jail.
Women and birds are able to see without turning their heads, and that is indeed a necessary provision for they are both surrounded by enemies.
The problem is that if you're self-conscious about being a person on whom nothing is lost, isn't something lost - some kind of presence? You're distracted by trying to be totally, perfectly impressionable.