At Night, Time Becomes A

For What Are We Looking For If Not To Please? I Do Not Know If The Desire To Attract Others Comes From A Superabundance Of Vitality, Possessiveness, Or The Hidden, Unspoken Need To Be Reassured.

When Man, Apollo Man, Rockets Into Space, It Isn't In Order To Find His Brother, I'm Quite Sure Of That. It's To Confirm That He Hasn't Any Brothers.

If You Treat Life Well, Life Is Usually Good To You. And I Love Life. There's A Long-standing Affair Between Us.

It Seems To Me That There Are Two Kinds Of Trickery: The "fronts" People Assume Before One Another's Eyes, And The "front" A Writer Puts On The Face Of Reality.

A Strange Melancholy Pervades Me To Which I Hesitate To Give The Grave And Beautiful Name Of Sorrow. The Idea Of Sorrow Has Always Appealed To Me But Now I Am Almost Ashamed Of It's Complete Egoism. I Have Known Boredom, Regret, And Occasionally Remorse, But Never Sorrow. Today It Envelops Me Like A Silken Web, Enervating And Soft, And Sets Me Apart From Everybody Else.