We Are The Stories We Tell Ourselves

What You're Normally Doing As A Writer Is Trying To Find The Narrative.

I Know What "nothing" Means, And Keep On Playing.

Most Of Our Platitudes Notwithstanding, Self-deception Remains The Most Difficult Deception. The Tricks That Work On Others Count For Nothing In That Very Well-lit Back Alley Where One Keeps Assignation With Oneself: No Winning Smiles Will Do Here, No Prettily Drawn Lists Of Good Intentions. One Shuffles Flashily But In Vain Through One's Marked Cards- The Kindness Done For The Wrong Reason, The Apparent Triumph Which Involved No Real Effort, The Seemingly Heroic Act Into Which One Had Been Shamed.

I Came Into Adult Life Equipped With An Essentially Romantic Ethic.

Hand That On Parting Squeezes Your Shoulder, Salutes The Small Of Your Back.