Only That Which Makes You

A Writer Without A Sense Of Justice Or Injustice Would Be Better Off Editing The Yearbook For A School For Exceptional Children.

A Girl Came In The Cafe And Sat By Herself At A Table Near The Window. She Was Very Pretty With A Face Fresh As A Newly Minted Coin If They Minted Coins In Smooth Flesh With Rain-freshened Skin, And Her Hair Black As A Crow's Wing And Cut Sharply And Diagonally Across Her Cheek.

Some Other Places Were Not So Good But Maybe We Were Not So Good When We Were In Them.

No One Should Be Alone In Their Old Age, He Thought.

Oh, Darling, I've Been So Miserable.