Falling Out Of Love Is Chiefly A

A Letter Is A Barrier, A Reprieve, A Charm Against The World, An Almost Infallible Method Of Acting At A Distance.

So We Live; A Spirit That Broods And Hovers Over The Continual Death Of Time, The Lost Meaning, The Unrecaptured Moment, The Unremembered Face, Until The Final Chop That Ends All Our Moments And Plunges That Spirit Back Into The Void From Which It Came.

We Are All The Judges And The Judged, Victims Of The Casual Malice And Fantasy Of Others, And Ready Sources Of Fantasy And Malice In Our Turn. And If We Are Sometimes Accused Of Sins Of Which We Are Innocent, Are There Not Also Other Sins Of Which We Are Guilty And Of Which The World Knows Nothing?

Art Is The Final Cunning Of The Human Soul Which Would Rather Do Anything Than Face The Gods.

Of Course Reading And Thinking Are Important But, My God, Food Is Important Too. How Fortunate We Are To Be Food-consuming Animals. Each Meal Should Be A Treat And One Ought To Bless Every Day Which Brings With It A Good Digestion And The Precious Gift Of Hunger.