One Eventually Has Enough Even Of Oneself.

Travelling Carries Me To The Surface, Away From The Deeps Of Home-thoughts.

Like An Electric Tea-kettle, Pornography Comes To A Boil Very Fast.

Narcissus Weeps To Find That His Image Does Not Return His Love.

The Tranquility Of My Room Partakes Too Much Of Forest Lawn.

Confess To The Misdeeds You Cannot Hide.