I’ve Never Wanted To Meet Anyone I’ve

The Vehemence Of My Moral Indignation Surprised Me. Was I Beginning To Have Standards And Principles, And, Oh Dear, Scruples? What Were They, And What Would I Do With Them, And How Much Were They Going To Get In My Way?

At Some Point In My Life I Realized I Knew Only Celebrities, I Didn't Know Any Real People. I Think It Was A Master Stroke Of Fate That In Researching The Greatest Celebrity Of Them All, I Would At Last Be Meeting Real People, Finding Them More Extraordinary Than Celebrities; Fascinated By Them All And Enjoying Enduring Friendships With Some.

It's Amazing How Right You Can Be About A Person You Don't Know; It's Only The People You Do Know Who Confuse You.

I Always Expect People To Behave Much Better Than I Do. When They Actually Behave Worse, I Am Frankly Incredulous.

It's Difficult To Explain, But I Just Somehow Feel That I Never Really *have* Lived; That I Never Really Will Live--exist Or Whatever--in The Sense That Other People Do. It Drives Me Crazy. I Was Terribly Aware Of It All Those Nights Waiting For You In The Ritz Bar Looking Around At What Seemed To Be Real Grown-up Lives. I Just Find Everybody Else's Life Surrounded By Plate Glass. I Mean I'd Like To Break Through It Just Once And Actually Touch One.