While You Are Living, Part Of You

It Is June. This Is What I Have Decided To Do With My Life Just Now. I Will Do This Work And Lead This Life, The One I Am Leading Today. Each Morning The Blue Clock And The Crocheted Bedspread, The Table With The Phone, The Books And Magazines, The Times At The Door.

The Language Of The Younger Generation Has The Brutality Of The City And An Assertion Of Threatening Power At Hand, Not To Come. It Is Military, Theatrical, And At Its Most Coherent Probably A Lasting Repudiation Of Empty Courtesy And Bureaucratic Euphemism.

Boston - Wrinkled, Spindly-legged, Depleted Of Nearly All Her Spiritual And Cutaneous Oils, Provincial, Self-esteeming - Has Gone On Spending And Spending Her Inflated Bills Of Pure Reputation, Decade After Decade.

Books Give Not Wisdom Where None Was Before. But Where Some Is, There Reading Makes It More.

Biographers, The Quick In Pursuit Of The Dead, Research, Organize, Fill In, Contradict, And Make In This Way A Sort Of Completed Picture Puzzle With All The Scramble Turned Into A Blue Eye And The Parts Of The Right Leg Fitted Together.