Listen To The Whispers Or

Oh My God, Baby, You Are In So Much Trouble.

But He [depression] Just Gives Me That Dark Smile, Settles Into My Favorite Chair, Puts His Feet On My Table And Lights A Cigar, Filling The Place With His Awful Smoke. Loneliness Watches And Sighs, Then Climbs Into My Bed And Pulls The Covers Over Himself, Fully Dressed, Shoes And All. He's Going To Make Me Sleep With Him Again Tonight, I Just Know It.

We Invented Marriage. Couples Invented Marriage. We Also Invented Divorce,mind You. And We Invented Infidelity,too, As Well As Romantic Misery. In Fact We Invented The Whole Sloppy Mess Of Love And Intimacy And Aversion And Euphoria And Failure. But Most Importantly Of All, Most Subversively Of All, Most Stubbornly Of All, We Invented Privacy.

The More Exquisitely And Delightfully You Can Do Nothing, The Higher Your Life's Achievement.

Moss Grows Where Nothing Else Can Grow. It Grows On Bricks. It Grows On Tree Bark And Roofing Slate. It Grows In The Arctic Circle And In The Balmiest Tropics; It Also Grows On The Fur Of Sloths, On The Backs Of Snails, On Decaying Human Bones. ... It Is A Resurrection Engine. A Single Clump Of Mosses Can Lie Dormant And Dry For Forty Years At A Stretch, And Then Vault Back Again Into Life With A Mere Soaking Of Water.