You Grew Old First Not In Your

We Live On The Flat, On The Level, And Yet - And So - We Aspire. Groundlings, We Can Sometimes Reach As Far As The Gods. Some Soar With Art, Others With Religion; Most With Love. But When We Soar, We Can Also Crash. There Are Few Soft Landings. We May Find Ourselves Bouncing Across The Ground With Leg-fracting Force, Dragged Towards Some Foreign Railway Line. Every Love Story Is A Potential Grief Story. If Not At First, Then Later. If Not For One, Then For The Other. Sometimes, For Both.

You Grew Old First Not In Your Own Eyes, But In Other People's Eyes; Then, Slowly, You Agreed With Their Opinion Of You.

Everything In Art Depends On Execution: The Story Of A Louse Can Be As Beautiful As The Story Of Alexander. You Must Write According To Your Feelings, Be Sure Those Feelings Are True, And Let Everything Else Go Hang. When A Line Is Good It Ceases To Belong To Any School. A Line Of Prose Must Be As Immutable As A Line Of Poetry.

Iconic Paris Tells Us: Here Are Our Three-star Attractions, Go Thou And Marvel. And So We Gaze Obediently At What We Are Told To Gaze At, Without Exactly Asking Why.

Had My Life Increased, Or Merely Added To Itself? There Had Been Addition And Subtraction In My Life, But How Much Multiplication?