We Know That The Furies Do Not

I Always Knew One Thing, That Life Is Made Bearable And Possible And Liveable By The Relations Of One Human Being To Another, The Individual Love And Gentleness Between Persons, Or In Any Case, The Unbreakable Bond That Grows And Fastens Lives Together In All Sorts Of Mysterious Ways.

There Has Been A Marvelous Joyous Carnival Of Mourning For Edith Piaf And Jean Coctaeau, And It Was Real! They Died As They Had Lived, With Style And Grace And Their Proper Eccentricity; And Paris Loves Anybody Who Can Live Anarchically And Be Delightful Entertainment At The Same Time. So Do I.

A Story Is Like Something You Wind Out Of Yourself. Like A Spider, It Is A Web You Weave, And You Love Your Story Like A Child.

There Have Been Many Times When I Have Been So Entirely Sickened Of Life It Was Very Hard To Work To Keep On, A Half Dozen Times I Have Been Tempted To Suicide, But I Am Glad I Did Not Give Way, For I Have Always Felt That The Last Half Of My Life Would Somehow Atone For The First Half, And I Still Think It May ... It Is Not Possible To Live In This World Without Suffering Unless One Is A Born Stone. But It Is Also Possible To Have A Great Deal Of Happiness In Spite Of The Suffering.

If We Say I Love You, It May Be Received With Doubt, For There Are Times When It Is Hard To Believe. Say I Hate You, And The One Spoken To Believes It Instantly, Once For All. ... Love Must Be Learned, And Learned Again And Again; There Is No End To It. Hate Needs No Instruction, But Waits Only To Be Provoked.