In View Of The Fact That I

But There Was Not A Moment When She Did Not See Carol In Her Mind, And All She Saw, She Seemed To See Through Carol. That Evening, The Dark Flat Streets Of New York, The Tomorrow Of Work, The Milk Bottle Dropped And Broken In Her Sink, Became Unimportant. She Flung Herself On Her Bed And Drew A Line With A Pencil On A Piece Of Paper. And Another Line, Carefully, And Another. A World Was Born Around Her, Like A Bright Forest With A Million Shimmering Leaves.

How Was It Possible To Be Afraid And In Love... The Two Things Did Not Go Together. How Was It Possible To Be Afraid, When The Two Of Them Grew Stronger Together Every Day? And Every Night. Every Night Was Different, And Every Morning. Together They Possessed A Miracle.

My New Year’s Eve Toast: To All The Devils, Lusts, Passions, Greeds, Envies, Loves, Hates, Strange Desires, Enemies Ghostly And Real, The Army Of Memories, With Which I Do Battle — May They Never Give Me Peace. (new Year's Eve, 1947)

One Blow In Anger [would] Kill, Probably, A Child From Aged Two To Eight. Those Over Eight Would Take Two Blows To Kill.

The Kiss Became The Narrowed Center Of The Still Point Of The Turning World, So That Even The Park Was Turning In Comparison To The Still Peace At Their Lips.