Art Is A Profession, Not

Now, My Novel Begins. No, Now I Begin My Novel—and Yet I Cannot Decide Whether To Call Myself I Or She.

Adversity Is A Great Teacher, But This Teacher Makes Us Pay Dearly For Its Instruction; And Often The Profit We Derive, Is Not Worth The Price We Paid.

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.

Sentences In Which I Have Tried For A Certain Light Tone -- Many Of Those Have To Do With Events, Upheavals, Destructions That Caused Me To Weep Like A Child.

Mothers Born On Relief Have Their Babies On Relief. Nothingness, Truly, Seems To Be The Condition Of These New York People. They Are Nomads Going From One Rooming House To Another, Looking For A Toilet That Functions.