Our Perfect Companions Never Have

Sincerity Is Not A Spontaneous Flower Nor Is Modesty Either.

As For An Authentic Villain, The Real Thing, The Absolute, The Artist, One Rarely Meets Him Even Once In A Lifetime. The Ordinary Bad Hat Is Always In Part A Decent Fellow.

I Did Not Look For Her, Because I Was Afraid Of Dispelling The Mystery We Attach To People Whom We Know Only Casually.

At The Top Of The Iron Staircase Leading To The Stage, The Good, Dry, Dusty Warmth Wraps Me Round Like A Comfortable Dirty Cloak.

I Believe There Are More Urgent And Honorable Occupations Than The Incomparable Waste Of Time We Call Suffering.