Hate Is A Lack Of Imagination.

My Fellow Journalists Called Themselves Correspondents; I Preferred The Title Of Reporter. I Wrote What I Saw. I Took No Action -- Even An Opinion Is A Kind Of Action.

What Happens If You Drop All The Things That Make You I?

It Was Like Having A Box Of Chocolates Shut In The Bedroom Drawer. Until The Box Was Empty It Occupied The Mind Too Much.

Death Never Mattered At Those Times - In The Early Days I Even Used To Pray For It: The Shattering Annihilation That Would Prevent For Ever The Getting Up, The Putting On Of Clothes, The Wathchign Her Torch Trail Across To The Opposite Side Of The Common Like The Tail-light Of A Low Car Driving Away.

Eternity Is Said Not To Be An Extension Of Time But An Absence Of Time, And Sometimes It Seemed To Me That Her Abandonment Touched That Strange Mathematical Point Of Endlessness, A Point With No Width, Occupying No Space.