The Sea Only Drowns Its Lovers.

Berlin Is A Skeleton Which Aches In The Cold: It Is My Own Skeleton Aching. I Feel In My Bones The Sharp Ache Of The Frost In The Girders Of The Overhead Railway, In The Iron-work Of Balconies, In Bridges, Tramlines, Lamp-standards, Latrines. The Iron Throbs And Shrinks, The Stone And The Bricks Ache Dully, The Plaster Is Numb.

A Few Times In My Life I've Had Moments Of Absolute Clarity, When For A Few Brief Seconds The Silence Drowns Out The Noise And I Can Feel Rather Than Think, And Things Seem So Sharp. And The World Seems So Fresh As Though It Had All Just Come Into Existence. I Can Never Make These Moments Last. I Cling To Them, But Like Everything, They Fade. I Have Lived My Life On These Moments. They Pull Me Back To The Present, And I Realize That Everything Is Exactly The Way It Was Meant To Be.

I'm Horrified To Find, As I Look At These Diaries Of Twenty-five Years Ago Or More, That I Don't Remember Who The People Were. "bill And Tony Were Constantly In And Out. We Went To La Jolla" - Or Something. I Haven't The Bluest Idea Who They Were!

I Often Feel That Worse Than The Most Fiendish Nazis Were Those Germans Who Went Along With The Persecution Of The Jews Not Because They Really Disliked Them But Because It Was The Thing.

A Minority Is Only Thought Of As A Minority When It Constitutes Some Kind Of Threat To The Majority, Real Or Imaginary. And No Threat Is Ever Quite Imaginary.