Love Doesn't Need A Reason. Hate Needs

I Never Read Ford Madox Ford's "the Good Soldier." I've Been Reading Books That I Should Have Read Years Ago And Did Not. That's One Of Them.

Each Thing I Do, I Rush Through So I Can Do Something Else. In Such A Way Do The Days Pass - -a Blend Of Stock Car Racing And The Never Ending Building Of A Gothic Cathedral. Through The Windows Of My Speeding Car I See All That I Love Falling Away: Books Unread, Jokes Untold, Landscapes Unvisited.

These People You Used To See Every Day, Friends Or Acquaintances, After A While They Become As Distant As Any Stranger, People You Suddenly Recall Late At Night--you Remember Something They Said Or Something Silly That Someone Once Did. For A Few Moments They Completely Occupy Your Mind; Then You Forget Them Again.

It Was As If Pain Were A Room He Had Entered And The Door Had Been Locked Behind Him.

I Remember Coming Upon Philip Larkin In My 20s In The Early '60s And When Sylvia Plath's "ariel" Came Out It Knocked Me Off My Feet.