"These days I feel like giving up as a writer. It suddenly seems shocking to me to expose the feelings one has had, even if those feelings are very distant, even if they are dead. Sacrilege. I long to become a simple woman whose life is secret even to herself...

What is happening is that the work I do, apart from the journal, lacks the journal's genuineness. A page in the journal is more moving than my pages of artistic creation. So from time to time I feel like releasing it — anonymously — just as it is, terribly human, simple and direct, as a superhuman effort to balance the lies in the fairy story that I thought I should give the world."

~ excerpt from Incest, Letter to Father