It’s Got To Be Some Kind Of

...i Couldn't Let Go Of The Thought That It Had, In Fact, Been He, Restless And Moody Heathcliff. Day After Day, He Floated Through All The Wal-marts In America, Searching For Me In A Million Lonely Aisles.

Making Love To Aurelia Was Like Rummaging Through A Card Catalog In A Deserted Library, Searching For One Very Obscure, Little-read Entry On Hungarian Poetry.

Dad Always Warned That It Was Misleading When One Imagined People, When One Sas Them In The Mind's Eye, Because One Never Remembered Them As They Really Were, With As Many Inconsistencies As There Were Hairs On A Human Head (100,000 To 200,000). Instead, The Mind Used A Lazy Shorthand, Smoothed The Person Over Into Their Most Dominating Characteristic--their Pessimism Or Insecurity (something Really Being Lazy, Turning Them Into Either Nice Or Mean)--and One Made The Mistake Of Judging Them From This Basis Alone And Risked, On A Subsequent Encounter, Being Dangerously Surprised.

As Much As Some People Would Like To Believe, For Their Own Peace Of Mind, That The Appearance Of Evil In This World Had A Clean Cause, The Truth Was Never That Simple.

It's A Common Feeling For People To Feel Intermittent Antipathy Toward Individuals They're Familiar With.