Life Is A Long Failure Of Understanding

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.

He Loved Possessions, Not Masses Of Them, But A Select Few That He Did Not Part With.they Gave A Man Self-respect. Not Ostentation But Quality, And The Love That Cherished The Quality. Possessions Reminded Him That He Existed, And Made Him Enjoy His Existence. It Was As Simple As That. And Wasn' T That Worth Something? He Existed.

Each Book Is, In A Sense, An Argument With Myself, And I Would Write It, Whether It Is Ever Published Or Not.

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.

The Night Was A Time For Bestial Affinities, For Drawing Closer To Oneself.