Where are the beginnings, the endings, and most important, the middles?
No matter where i go, i still end up me. What's missing never changes. The scenery may change, but i'm still the same incomplete person. The same missing elements torture me with a hunger that i can never satisfy. I think that lack itself is as close as i'll come to defining myself.
I'm aware of what's missing from my life.
A good drama critic is one who perceives what is happening in the theatre of his time. A great drama critic also perceives what is not happening.
I'm always consciously trying to make what I feel is missing.
One might enumerate the items of high civilization, as it exists in other countries, which are absent from the texture of American life, until it should become a wonder to know what was left.
A world without tomatoes is like a string quartet without violins.
The evasions of her little novel were exactly those of her life. Everything she did not wish to confront was also missing from her novella--and was necessary to it.
I feel like I don't have all the ingredients a person is supposed to have.
