We All Fear Loneliness, Madness, Dying. Shakespeare And Walt Whitman, Leopardi And Hart Crane Will Not Cure Those Fears. And Yet These Poets Bring Us Fire And Light.
All The Things That Girls Feel They Are Not When They Fear That If They Become, If They Are, They Will No Longer Be Loved By The Sisters Whose Hearts They Have Not Meant To Break. And Besides, If The Sisters Are Gone And Only The Beloved Remains With His Dense Curls And His Lips, How Safe Are You Then? You Have To Have Him Or You Will Die If The Sisters Are Gone With Their Listening Ears And Their Feet To Rub And Their Bodies To Dress And Their Shared Loneliness.
If You Want To Find The Trail, If You Want To Find Yourself, You Must Explore Your Dreams Alone. You Must Grow At A Slow Pace In A Dark Cocoon Of Loneliness So You Can Fly Like Wind, Like Wings, When You Awaken.
Under The Ground Seep The Toxins Of The Population That Lives Above. If You Have To, You Will Eat Roots And Earthworms. It Is Always Night. Candles Burn In Lanterns Made From Tin Cans. When It Is Nighttime Up Above, You Can Crawl Out, But Only For A Little While. You Feel Ashamed Of Your Matted Hair, Your Torn Clothes, The Dirt On Your Face. Who Would Want To Speak To You? They Are All Shiny And Pretty. They Have Parents And House With Gardens. What Do You Have? The Earth. Whole Handfuls Of It. The Lizard People With Their Slit Eyes And Scaly Skin. Your Loneliness. Your Longing.
I Felt More Than Ever The Necessity Of My Mission. But I Went Home Out Of Spirits, I Hardly Know Why. I Must Work By Myself All Life Long.
A Blank Wall Of Social And Professional Antagonism Faces The Woman Physician That Forms A Situation Of Singular And Painful Loneliness, Leaving Her Without Support, Respect Or Professional Counsel.
I Never Really Understood The Word ‘loneliness’. As Far As I Was Concerned, I Was In An Orgy With The Sky And The Ocean, And With Nature.
But The West Of The Old Times, With Its Strong Characters, Its Stern Battles And Its Tremendous Stretches Of Loneliness, Can Never Be Blotted From My Mind.
And Behind Their Frail Partitions Business Women Lie And Soak, Seeing Through The Draughty Skylight Flying Clouds And Railway Smoke. Rest You There, Poor Unbelov'd Ones, Lap Your Loneliness In Heat, All Too Soon The Tiny Breakfast, Trolley-bus And Windy Street!
Some Nights In The Midst Of This Loneliness I Swung Among The Scattered Stars At The End Of The Thin Thread Of Faith Alone.
Healing Is Impossible In Loneliness; It Is The Opposite Of Loneliness. Conviviality Is Healing. To Be Healed We Must Come With All The Other Creatures To The Feast Of Creation. (pg.99, "the Body And The Earth")
