Exhibitionism And A Nervous Wish For Concealment,

Pity The Selfishness Of Lovers: It Is Brief, A Forlorn Hope; It Is Impossible.

Solitary And Farouche People Don't Have Relationships; They Are Quite Unrelatable. If You And I Were Capable Of Being Altogether House-trained And Made Jolly, We Should Be Nicer People, But Not Writers.

Life Is A Succession Of Readjustments.

Autumn Arrives In The Early Morning.

There's Something So Showy About Desperation, It Takes Hard Wits To See It's A Grandiose Form Of Funk.