Silences Have A Climax, When You Have

It Is Not Our Exalted Feelings, It Is Our Sentiments That Build The Necessary Home.

One's Sentiments -- Call Them That -- One's Fidelities Are So Instinctive That One Hardly Knows They Exist: Only When They Are Betrayed Or, Worse Still, When One Betrays Them Does One Realize Their Power.

Memory Must Be Patchy; What Is More Alarming Is Its Face-savingness. Something In One Shrinks From Catching It Out - Unique To Oneself, One's Own, One's Claim To Identity, It Implicates One's Identity In Its Fibbing.

Two Things Are Terrible In Childhood: Helplessness (being In Other People's Power) And Apprehension - The Apprehension That Something Is Being Concealed From Us Because It Is Too Bad To Be Told.

Every Short Story Is An Experiment - What One Must Ask Is Not Only, Did It Come Off, But Was It, As An Experiment, Worth Making?