... Everyone Young Going Down The Long

I Work All Day, And Get Half-drunk At Night.

So Many Things I Had Thought Forgotten Return To My Mind With Stranger Pain: Like Letters That Arrive Addressed To Someone Who Left The House So Many Years Ago.

To Write You Must Be Warm, Fed, Loved And Sober.

Novels Seem To Me To Be Richer, Broader, Deeper, More Enjoyable Than Poems.

The Way The Moon Dashes Through Clouds That Blow Loosely As Cannon-smoke... Is A Reminder Of The Strength And Pain Of Being Young; That It Can't Come Again, But Is For Others Undiminished Somewhere.