Nothing Stinks Like A Pile Of Unpublished

Is To Throw Together Events From My Own Life, Fictionalizing To Add Color—it’s A Pot Boiler Really, But I Think It Will Show How Isolated A Person Feels When He Is Suffering A Breakdown . . . I’ve Tried To Picture My World And The People In It As Seen Through The Distorting Lens Of A Bell Jar.

I Said: I Must Remember This, Being Small.

If I Rest, If I Think Inward, I Go Mad.

I, To You, Am Lost In The Gorgeous Errors Of Flesh.

I Deserve That, Don't I, Some Sort Of Blazing Love That I Can Live With.