Everything Human Is Alien To Me.

The Night Was A Time For Bestial Affinities, For Drawing Closer To Oneself.

But There Was Not A Moment When She Did Not See Carol In Her Mind, And All She Saw, She Seemed To See Through Carol. That Evening, The Dark Flat Streets Of New York, The Tomorrow Of Work, The Milk Bottle Dropped And Broken In Her Sink, Became Unimportant. She Flung Herself On Her Bed And Drew A Line With A Pencil On A Piece Of Paper. And Another Line, Carefully, And Another. A World Was Born Around Her, Like A Bright Forest With A Million Shimmering Leaves.

This Is What I Like, Sitting At A Table And Watching People Go By. It Does Something To Your Outlook On Life. The Anglo-saxons Make A Great Mistake Not Staring At People From A Sidewalk Table.

My New Year’s Eve Toast: To All The Devils, Lusts, Passions, Greeds, Envies, Loves, Hates, Strange Desires, Enemies Ghostly And Real, The Army Of Memories, With Which I Do Battle — May They Never Give Me Peace. (new Year's Eve, 1947)

The Conversation Seemed Just As Boring And Forgettable As Details Of American History Around 1805, For Example.