It Is Difficult To Live With The

The Period Without The Diary Remains An Ordeal. Every Evening I Want My Diary As One Wants Opium.

Perhaps The Only Magician We Have Is The Artist.

I Made No Resolutions For The New Year. The Habit Of Making Plans, Of Criticizing, Sanctioning And Molding My Life, Is Too Much Of A Daily Event For Me.

We Are Never Trapped Unless We Choose To Be.

I Seek The Real Stuff Of Life. Profound Drama.