Either You Have The Feeling Or You

But There Was More, As There Always Is When The Love Goes. She Was Haunted, Naturally. Otherwise What Is The Point, Why Leave Your Rickety House, And Why This Yo-yo World Giving Us Things And Yanking Them Back?

The Miracle Is The Adverbs, The Way Things Are Done.

Strange As It May Seem, I Still Hope For The Best, Even Though The Best, Like An Interesting Piece Of Mail, So Rarely Arrives, And Even When It Does It Can Be Lost So Easily.

It's Funny, Particularly When You're A Writer And You're Doing Well, You Have That Sense Of Like, "oh! My View Of The World Is The One That's Going To Be Published."

It Is Almost As If Happiness Is An Acquired Taste, Like Coconut Cordial Or Ceviche, To Which You Can Eventually Become Accustomed, But Despair Is Something Surprising Each Time You Encounter It.