When People Are Taken Out Of Their

The Truth Was That For Some Months He Had Been Going Through That Partitioning Of The Things Of Youth Wherein It Is Decided Whether Or Not To Die For What One No Longer Believes.

I Like France, Where Everybody Thinks He's Napoleon--down Here Everybody Thinks He's Christ.

Sometimes I Don't Know Whether I'm Real Or Whether I'm A Character In One Of My Novels.

One Should, For Example, Be Able To See That Things Are Hopeless And Yet Be Determined To Make Them Otherwise.

So When The Blue Smoke Of Brittle Leaves Was In The Air And The Wind Blew The Wet Laundry Stiff On The Line I Decided To Come Back Home.