I Believed I Was A Salamander, And

Why Do We Spend Years Using Up Our Bodies To Nurture Our Minds With Experience And Find Our Minds Turning Then To Our Exhausted Bodies For Solace?

We Grew Up Founding Our Dreams On The Infinite Promise Of American Advertising. I Still Believe That One Can Learn To Play The Piano By Mail And That Mud Will Give You A Perfect Complexion.

Nothing Could Have Survived Our Life.

It Seems To Me That On One Page I Recognized A Portion Of An Old Diary Of Mine Which Mysteriously Disappeared Shortly After My Marriage, And, Also, Scraps Of Letters Which, Though Considerably Edited, Sound To Me Vaguely Familiar. In Fact, Mr. Fitzgerald (i Believe That Is How He Spells His Name) Seems To Believe That Plagiarism Begins At Home.

Scott-there's Nothing In The World I Want But You-and Your Precious Love. All The Material Things Are Nothing. I'd Just Hate To Live In A Sordid, Colorless Existence-because You'd Soon Love Less-and Less-and I'd Do Anything-anything-to Keep Your Heart For My Own-i Don't Want To Live-i Want To Love First And Live Incidentally.