I Have Arranged My Little Life.

Not That She Objected To Solitude. Quite The Contrary. She Had Books, Thank Heaven, Quantities Of Books. All Sorts Of Books.

If She Says Goodbye Perhaps Adieu. Adieu - Like Those Old Time Songs She Sang. Always Adieu (and All Songs Say It). If She Too Says It, Or Weeps, I'll Take Her In My Arms, My Lunatic. She's Mad But Mine, Mine. What Will I Care For Gods Or Devils Or For Fate Itself. If She Smiles Or Weeps Or Both. For Me.

No Past To Make Us Sentimental, No Future To Embarrass Us...a Difficult Moment When You Are Out Of Practice - A Moment That Makes You Go Cold, Cold And Wary.

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.

Would You Like A Whiskey?' I Say. 'i've Got Some.' (that's Original. I Bet Nobody's Ever Thought Of That Way Of Bridging The Gap Before.)