New York Is The Meeting

The Truth Is How You Say It, And To Be 'one's Self' Is The Most Shocking Custom Of All.

One's Life Is Peculiar To One's Own When One Has Invented It.

Una's Face Was An Unbroken Block Of Calculation, Saving Where, Upon Her Upper Lip, A Little Down Of Hair Fluttered. Yet It Gave One An Uncanny Feeling. It Made One Think Of A Tassel On A Hammer.

This Head Has Risen Above Its Hair In A Moment Of Abandon Known Only To Men Who Have Drawn Their Feet Out Of Their Boots To Walk Awhile In The Corridors Of The Mind.

I Like My Human Experience Served Up With A Little Silence And Restraint. Silence Makes Experience Go Further And, When It Does Die, Gives It That Dignity Common To A Thing One Had Touched And Not Ravished