The Perpetual Hunger To Be Beautiful And

I Sit At My Window And The Words Fly Past Me Like Birds — With God's Help I Catch Some.

The Last Time You Were Happy About Nothing; The First Time You Were Afraid About Nothing. Which Came First?

It Is Strange How Sad It Can Be - Sunlight In The Afternoon, Don't You Think?

She Could Give Herself Up To The Written Word As Naturally As A Good Dancer To Music Or A Fine Swimmer To Water. The Only Difficulty Was That After Finishing The Last Sentence She Was Left With A Feeling At Once Hollow And Uncomfortably Full. Exactly Like Indigestion.

I'm No Use To Anybody,' I Say. 'i'm A Cérébrale, Can't You See That?' Thinking How Funny A Book Would Be, Called 'just A Cérébrale Or You Can't Stop Me From Dreaming'. Only, Of Course, To Be Accepted As Authentic, To Carry Any Conviction, It Would Have To Be Written By A Man. What A Pity, What A Pity!