The Fact Was I Loved My Wife

It's The Face Itself That I Love, Not That Face At Twenty-eight Or Thirty-four Or Forty-three. It's That Face.

I Suppose The Important Thing Is To Make Some Sort Of Difference,’ She Siad. ‘you Know, Actually Change Something.’ ‘what, Like “change The World”, You Mean?’ ‘not The Whole Entire World. Just The Little Bit Around You.

The Trick Of It, She Told Herself, Is To Be Courageous And Bold And Make A Different. Not Change The World Exactly, Just The Bit Around You. Go Out There With Your Double-first, Your Passion And Your New Smith Carona Electric Typewriter And Work Hard At ... Something. Change Lives Through Art Maybe. Write Beautifully. Cherish Your Friends, Stay True To Your Principles, Live Passionately And Fully And Well. Experience New Things. Love And Be Loved If At All Possible. East Sensibly. Stuff Like That.

For His Thirtieth Birthday He Had Filled A Whole Night-club Off Regent Street; People Had Been Queuing On The Pavement To Get In. The Sim Card Of His Mobile Phone In His Pocket Was Overflowing With Telephone Numbers Of All The Hundreds Of People He Had Met In The Last Ten Years, And Yet The Only Person He Had Ever Wanted To Talk To In All That Time Was Standing Now In The Very Next Room.

The Attraction Of A Life Devoted To Sensation, Pleasure And Self Would Probably Wear Thin One Day, But There Was Still Plenty Of Time For That Yet.