At One With The One, It Didn't

It Was As Though Our Love Were A Small Creature Caught In A Trap And Bleeding To Death: I Had To Shut My Eyes And Wring Its Neck.

I Had Committed Myself: Without Love I'd Have To Go Through The Gestures Of Love.

We Forget Very Easily What Gives Us Pain.

He Had Stylized Himself--life Was Easier That Way. He Had Chosen A Physical Mould Just As Writer Chooses A Technical Form.

There Is A Point Of No Return, Unremarked At The Time, In Most Lives.