When She Smiled It Was As Though

Looking From The Window At The Fantastic Light And Colour Of My Glittering Fairy-world Of Fact That Holds No Tenderness, No Quietude, I Long Suddenly For Peace, For Understanding.

Men Are Simpler Than You Imagine My Sweet Child. But What Goes On In The Twisted, Tortuous Minds Of Women Would Baffle Anyone.

There's Something About Paris That Gives You A Mental Slap All The Time, And You Can't Just Sit Still And Do Nothing. You've Got To Work, To Keep Up With The Pace, The Sting In The Atmosphere.

A Bad Workman Blames His Tools.

I Am Glad It Cannot Happen Twice, The Fever Of First Love. For It Is A Fever, And A Burden, Too, Whatever The Poets May Say.