Bored People, Unless They Sleep A Lot,

Bored People, Unless They Sleep A Lot, Are Cruel.

No One Ever Confides A Secret To One Person Only. No One Destroys All Copies Of A Document.

I Took A Little Celebrational Nap.

My Capacity For Having A Good Time Exists. It Surfaces, However, On Odd Occasions.

And Then There Were The Wallflowers Who Had Recognized For Years That The Thing Was Hopeless, Who Had Found In That Information A Kind Of Calm. They No Longer Tried, With A Bright And Desperate Effort, To Sustain A Conversation With Somebody's Brother, Somebody's Usher, Somebody's Roommate, Somebody's Roommate's Usher's Brother... The Category Of Wallflower Who Had Given Up On All This Was Very Quiet, Not Indifferent, Only Quiet. And She Always Brought A Book.