Miss My Daily Mass, And

Words, Living And Ghostly, The Quick And The Dead, Crowd And Jostle The Otherwise Too Empty Corridors Of My Mind ... To Move Among This Bright, Strange, Often Fabulous Herd Of Beings, To Summon Them At My Will, To Fasten Them On To Paper Like Flies, That They May Decorate It, This Is The Pleasure Of Writing.

Traveling Together Is A Great Test, Which Has Damaged Many Friendships And Even Honeymoons, And Some People Such As [thomas] Gray And Horace Walpole, Never Feel Quite The Same To One Another Again, And It Is Nobody's Fault, As One Knows If One Listens To The Stories Of Both, Though It Seems To Be Some People's Fault More Than Others.

Adultery Is A Meanness And A Stealing, A Taking Away From Someone What Should Be Theirs, A Great Selfishness, And Surrounded And Guarded By Lies Lest It Should Be Found Out. And Out Of Meanness And Selfishness And Lying Flow Love And Joy And Peace Beyond Anything That Can Be Imagined.

The Last Sin, The Sin Against The Holy Ghost - To Lie To Oneself. Lying To Other People - That's A Small Thing In Comparison.

Life, For All Its Agonies...is Exciting And Beautiful, Amusing And Artful And Endearing...and Whatever Is To Come After It -- We Shall Not Have This Life Again.