Sarah Manguso, from her book titled "Ongoingness: The End of a Diary," published in 2015

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Sarah Manguso, from her book titled "Ongoingness: The End of a Diary," published in 2015
Nothing's gone, not really. Everything that's ever happened has left its little wound.
Sarah Manguso, from 'Ongoingness: The End of a Diary'
To write a diary is to make a series of choices about what to omit, what to forget.
Sarah Manguso, from Ongoingness
Sarah Manguso, Ongoingness
Often I believe I’m working toward a result, but always, once I reach the result, I realize all the pleasure was in planning and executing the path to that result. It comforts me that endings are thus formally unappealing to me—that more than beginning or ending, I enjoy continuing.
Sarah Manguso, Ongoingness: The End of a Diary
Perhaps all anxiety might derive from a fixation on moments—an inability to accept life as ongoing.
Sarah Manguso, Ongoingness: The End of a Diary
Left alone in time, memories harden into summaries. The originals become almost irretrievable.
Sarah Manguso, Ongoingness
I started keeping the diary in earnest when I started finding myself in moments that were too full. At an art opening in the late eighties, I held a plastic cup of wine and stood in front of a painting next to a friend I loved. It was all too much.
Sarah Manguso, Ongoingness: The End of a Diary