Music Dissolves The Straight And Narrow.

The Plastic Surgeon's Knife Slashes At Time, Which May Seem To Retreat, But Then Keeps On Coming.

The Past Goes Right On Pulling Me Apart, Though I Can Scarcely Remember The People Or The Issues.

Shaw Writes As If It Were Always Midday.

Even In The Midst Of Love-making, Writers Are Working On The Description.

My Mentors Grow Old And Foolish. I Am Afraid.