They Say When Trouble Comes

The Musty Smell, The Bugs, The Lonliness, This Room, Which Is Part Of The Street Outside-this Is All I Want From Life.

I'm No Use To Anybody,' I Say. 'i'm A Cérébrale, Can't You See That?' Thinking How Funny A Book Would Be, Called 'just A Cérébrale Or You Can't Stop Me From Dreaming'. Only, Of Course, To Be Accepted As Authentic, To Carry Any Conviction, It Would Have To Be Written By A Man. What A Pity, What A Pity!

The Feeling Of Sunday Is The Same Everywhere, Heavy, Melancholy, Standing Still.

Cold - Cold As Truth, Cold As Life. No, Nothing Can Be As Cold As Life.

I Like Shape Very Much. A Novel Has To Have Shape, And Life Doesn't Have Any.