She Haunted Him, As An Ungenerous Action

We Can't All Be Happy, We Can't All Be Rich, We Can't All Be Lucky - And It Would Be So Much Less Fun If We Were... There Must Be The Dark Background To Show Up The Bright Colours.

I Long To Be ... Like Other People! The Extraordinary, Ungetatable, Oddly Cruel Other People, With Their Way Of Wantonly Hurting And Then Accusing You Of Being Thin-skinned, Sulky, Vindictive Or Ridiculous.

All Of Writing Is A Huge Lake. There Are Great Rivers That Feed The Lake, Like Tolstoy Or Dostoyevsky. And Then There Are Mere Trickles, Like Jean Rhys. All That Matters Is Feeding The Lake. I Don't Matter. The Lake Matters. You Must Keep Feeding The Lake.

If She Says Goodbye Perhaps Adieu. Adieu - Like Those Old Time Songs She Sang. Always Adieu (and All Songs Say It). If She Too Says It, Or Weeps, I'll Take Her In My Arms, My Lunatic. She's Mad But Mine, Mine. What Will I Care For Gods Or Devils Or For Fate Itself. If She Smiles Or Weeps Or Both. For Me.

A Room? A Nice Room? A Beautiful Room? A Beautiful Room With Bath? Swing High, Swing Low, Swing To And Fro...this Happened And That Happened... And Then The Days Came And I Was Alone.