I'll read, and then I'll take naps. When I feel sleep coming on, I give in and don't fight it.

I feel a physical happiness when spring is coming.

I feel like I'm too busy writing history to read it.

I feel like I'm walking on eggs and can't take another step.

Because I feel no anger toward my mother. Only loss, and loss is a feeling you can’t fight your way out of as easily.

I am frivolous. Then I feel guilty.