I Am Not Quite Myself,

I Am Not Quite Myself, I Think.but Who Here Is Quite Himself? And Yet There Is A Way In Which We Are All More Ourselves Than Ever, I Suppose.

The Worst Of It Is Over Now, And I Can't Say That I Am Glad. Lose That Sense Of Loss--you Have Gone And Lost Something Else.

I Have Written Letters That Are Failures, But I Have Written Few, I Think, That Are Lies. Trying To Reach A Person Means Asking The Same Question Over And Over Again: Is This The Truth, Or Not? I Begin This Letter To You, Then, In The Western Tradition. If I Understand It, The Western Tradition Is: Put Your Cards On The Table.

As Soon As I Knew That I Would Be All Right, I Was Sure That I Was Dead And Didn't Know It. I Moved Through The Days Like A Severed Head That Finishes A Sentence. I Waited For The Moment That Would Snap Me Out Of My Seeming Life.

We Can Only Die In The Future, I Thought; Right Now We Are Always Alive.