I Never Write In The Daytime. It's

Her Eyes Always Had A Frantic, Lost Look. He Could Never Cure Her Eyes Of That.

It Was Too Much. The Comfortable People Made Comfortable Jokes About Weather And Things But I Sat Mostly Silent Saying A Word Or So When Necessary A Word Or So Trying To Hide From Them The Fact That I Was A Fool And Feeling Terrible And I Was Numb, Numb Again, Numb Again Again And Again, Numbness And Pain Swelling In Me.

I've Never Met Another Man I'd Rather Be.

Why Do We Embroider Everything We Say With Special Emphasis When All We Really Need To Do Is Simply Say What Needs To He Said? Of Course The Fact Is That There Is Very Little That Needs To Be Said.

It Is Possible To Be Truly Mad And To Still Exist Upon Scraps Of Life.