He Looks Like He Could

I Told Him The Truth, That I Loved Him And Didn't Regret Anything About Our Lives Together. But Do We Ever 'tell The Truth, The Whole Truth, And Nothing But The Truth, So Help Me God' As My Father Used To Say, To Those We Love? Or Even To Ourselves? Don't Even The Best And Most Fortunate Of Lives Hint At Other Possibilities, At A Different Kind Of Sweetness And, Yes, Bitterness Too? Isn't This Why We Can't Help Feeling Cheated, Even When We Know We Haven't Been?

A Couple Years Ago, The Novelist Russell Banks Told Me He Was Reading The Ancient Greek Historian Herodotus. I Asked Why. He Said, 'because I've Always Wanted To And Am Tired Of Having My Reading Assigned.' I Thought It Was A Marvelous Declaration Of Independence.

After All, What Was The Whole Wide World But A Place For People To Yearn For Their Heart's Impossible Desires, For Those Desires To Become Entrenched In Defiance Of Logic, Plausibility, And Even The Passage Of Time, As Eternal As Polished Marble.

There Are A Great Many Sins In This World, None Of Them Original.

I'm Delighted By How Nobody's Fool Turned Out. It Was A Rare Movie.