I Seem To Produce A Novel Approximately

The Kiss Was Innocent--innocent Enough--but It Was Also Full Of Something Not Unlike What Virginia Wants From London, From Life; It Was Full Of A Love Complex And Ravenous, Ancient, Neither This Nor That. It Will Serve As This Afternoon's Manifestation Of The Central Mystery Itself, The Elusive Brightness That Shines From The Edges Of Certain Dreams; The Brightness Which, When We Awaken, Is Already Fading From Our Minds, And Which We Rise In The Hope Of Finding, Perhaps Today, This New Day In Which Anything Might Happen, Anything At All.

How We Dress Is, As Far As I Can Tell, The Only Inescapably Public Choice That We Have. People Don't Need To Know What You Eat, People Don't Need To Know Who You Have Sex With. But There's No Escaping What You Wear And The Fact That You've Chosen It. Even If You Insist That You Don't Care About Fashion, That's Your Statement. It's Really One Realm Of Life Where You Are Forced To Make Your Own Statement.

Youth Is The Only Sexy Tragedy. It's James Dean Jumping Into His Porsche Spyder, It's Marilyn Heading Off To Bed.

We Become The Stories We Tell Ourselves

I Just Don't Feel Much Interested In The Lifestyles Of The Rich And Famous.