Sometimes The Earth Trembles; Sometimes You Can

That Expression You Get In Your Eyes When You Are Very Tired And Everything Is Like A Dream And You Are Starting To Know What Things Are Like Underneath What People Say They Are.

I Am Empty Of Everything. I Am Empty Of Everything But The Thin, Frail Ghosts In My Room.

A Room Is, After All, A Place Where You Hide From The Wolves. That's All Any Room Is.

For The First Time She Had Dimly Realized That Only The Hopeless Are Starkly Sincere And That Only The Unhappy Can Either Give Or Take Sympathy--even Some Of The Bitter And Dangerous Voluptuousness Of Misery.

My Life, Which Seems So Simple And Monotonous, Is Really A Complicated Affair Of Cafés Where They Like Me And Cafés Where They Don't, Streets That Are Friendly, Streets That Aren't, Rooms Where I Might Be Happy, Rooms Where I Shall Never Be, Looking-glasses I Look Nice In, Looking-glasses I Don't, Dresses That Will Be Lucky, Dresses That Won't, And So On.