At This Point I Meet

I Do Not Sing Nor Play, But I Adore Music, Particularly Chopin. I Like Him Because I Cannot Understand Him.

But In My Life, In My Personality, There Is An Essence Of Falseness And Insincerity. A Thin, Fine Vapor Of Fraud Hangs Always Over Me And Dampens And Injures Some Things In Me That I Value.

When I Wrote My Book I Wanted To Love Someone. I Wanted To Be In Love. Now I Know That I Shall Never Be In Love - And I No Longer Wish To Be.

Except Two Breeds - The Stupid And The Narrowly Feline - All Women Have A Touch Of The Lesbian: An Assertion All Good Non-analytic Creatures Refute With Horror, But Quite True: There Is Always The Poignant Intensive Personal Taste, The Flair Of Inner-sex, In The Tenderest Friendships Of Women.

Just Why I Sent It To The Publishers Would Be Hard To Say, But When I Had Finished It I Felt That It Was Literature, Because It Is Real And Because It Was Well Written. And I Know That The World Wants Such Things.