Youth Doesn't Need Friends -- It Only

Without You, Dearest Dearest I Couldn't See Or Hear Or Feel Or Think - Or Live - I Love You So And I'm Never In All Our Lives Going To Let Us Be Apart Another Night.

Why Is There Happiness And Comfort And Excitement Where You Are And No Where Else In The World.

A Southern Moon Is A Sodden Moon, And Sultry. When It Swamps The Fields And The Rustling Sandy Roads And The Sticky Honeysuckle Hedges In Its Sweet Stagnation, Your Fight To Hold On To Reality Is Like A Protestation Against A First Waft Of Ether.

I Wish We Could Spend July By The Sea, Browning Ourselves And Feeling Water-weighted Hair Flow Behind Us From A Dive. I Wish Our Gravest Concerns Were The Summer Gnats. I Wish We Were Hungry For Hot Dogs And Dopes, And It Would Be Nice To Smell The Starch Of Summer Linens And The Faint Odor Of Talc In Blistering Summer Bath Houses ... We Could Lie In Long Citoneuse Beams Of The Five O'clock Sun On The Plage At Juan-les-pins And Hear The Sound Of The Drum And Piano Being Scooped Out To Sea By The Waves.

Other People's Ideas Of Us Are Dependent Largely On What They've Hoped For.