Life Is Fits And Starts, Mostly Fits.

Nowadays When A Person Lives Somewhere, In A Neighborhood, The Place Is Not Certified For Him. More Than Likely He Will Live There Sadly And The Emptiness Which Is Inside Him Will Expand Until It Evacuates The Entire Neighborhood. But If He Sees A Movie Which Shows His Very Neighborhood, It Becomes Possible For Him To Live, For A Time At Least, As A Person Who Is Somewhere And Not Anywhere.

Bourbon Does For Me What The Piece Of Cake Did For Proust.

But What Physician Has Not Had Patients Who Don't Make Any Sense At All? To Tell The Truth, They're Our Stock-in-trade. We Talk And Write About The Ones We Can Make Sense Of.

Have You Noticed That Only In Time Of Illness Or Disaster Or Death Are People Real? I Remember At The Time Of The Wreck-- People Were So Kind And Helpful And Solid. Everyone Pretended That Our Lives Until That Moment Had Been Every Bit As Real As The Moment Itself And That The Future Must Be Real Too, When The Truth Was That Our Reality Had Been Purchased Only By Lyell's Death. In Another Hour Or So We Had All Faded Out Again And Gone Our Dim Ways.

Losing Hope Is Not So Bad. There's Something Worse: Losing Hope And Hiding It From Yourself.