Quite Like Old Times,' The

For The First Time She Had Dimly Realized That Only The Hopeless Are Starkly Sincere And That Only The Unhappy Can Either Give Or Take Sympathy--even Some Of The Bitter And Dangerous Voluptuousness Of Misery.

I Often Want To Cry. That Is The Only Advantage Women Have Over Men — At Least They Can Cry.

I Long To Be ... Like Other People! The Extraordinary, Ungetatable, Oddly Cruel Other People, With Their Way Of Wantonly Hurting And Then Accusing You Of Being Thin-skinned, Sulky, Vindictive Or Ridiculous.

I Think That The Desire To Be Cruel And To Hurt (with Words Because Any Other Way Might Be Dangerous To Ourself) Is Part Of Human Nature. Parties Are Battles (most Parties), A Conversation Is A Duel (often). Everybody's Trying To Hurt First, To Get In The Dig That Will Make Him Or Her Feel Superior, Feel Triumph.

One Realized All Sorts Of Things. The Value Of An Illusion, For Instance, And That The Shadow Can Be More Important Than The Substance. All Sorts Of Things.