Pain Is Something To Master, Not To

One Handles Truths Like Dynamite.

She Had Acquired Some Of His Gypsy Ways, Some Of His Nonchalance, His Bohemian Indiscipline. She Had Swung With Him Into The Disorders Of Strewn Clothes, Spilled Cigarette Ashes, Slipping Into Bed All Dressed, Falling Asleep Thus, Indolence, Timelessness...a Region Of Chaos And Moonlight. She Liked It There.

Stations And Airports Are Rehearsals For Separations By Death.

Those Who Cannot Live Fully Often Become Destroyers Of Life.

Some People Read To Confirm Their Own Hopelessness. Others Read To Be Rescued From It.