She doesn't want to write a book that a reader wont understand and would feel ashamed for not understanding.
Making each sentence serve her and not the other way around.
When she lived at home, the things she looked at scolded her and made her feel sad and depressed. They said, "Wash me." They said, "Wash me." They said, "Lazy." They said, "You ought."
You can never have too much of sky.
A home in a heart, a house made of heart.
"...who left and keeps leaving."
I am the one nobody comes for.
I have began my own quiet war. Simple. Sure. I am one who leaves the table like a man, without putting back the chair or picking up the plate.