To Be Alive And To Be A

I Am Going To Enjoy Life In Paris I Know. It Is So Human And There Is Something Noble In The City... It Is A Real City, Old And Fine And Life Plays In It For Everybody To See.

Why It Should Be Such An Effort To Write To The People One Loves I Can't Imagine. It's None At All To Write To Those Who Don't Really Count.

I Love The Evening Star. Does That Sound Foolish? I Used To Go Into The Backyard, After Sunset, And Wait For It Until It Shone Above The Dark Gum Tree. I Used To Whisper 'there You Are, My Darling.' And Just In That First Moment It Seemed To Be Shining For Me Alone. It Seemed To Understand This ... Something Which Is Like Longing, And Yet It Is Not Longing. Or Regret - It Is More Like Regret.

All The Wild Sweetness Of The Flower Tangled Against The Wall. It Was That Magic, Silent Hour.... The Branches Grew So Tall They Twined Themselves Into A Bower. The Sun Shown ... And The Fall Of Yellow Blossom On The Grass! You Feel That Golden Rain? Both Of You Could Not Hold, Alas, (both Of You Tried, In Vain) A Memory, Stranger. So I Pass.... It Will Not Come Again.

The Truth Is That Every True Admirer Of The Novels Cherishes The Happy Thought That He Alone - Reading Between The Lines - Has Bcome The Secret Friend Of Their Author.