I Don't Have General Views About Anything,

Men Like Women Who Write. Even Though They Don't Say So. A Writer Is A Foreign Country.

All That Remains Of That Minute Is Time In All Its Purity, Bone-white Time.

A Prolonged Silence Ensues. The Reason For The Silence Is Our Growing Interest One For The Other. No One Is Aware Of It, No One Yet; No One? Am I Quite Sure?

He Wanted To Pay Her; He Thought Women Ought To Be Paid For Keeping Men From Dying Or Going Out Of Their Minds.

It's Only Women Who Are Not Really Quite Women At All, Frivolous Women Who Have No Idea, Who Neglect Repairs.