You Want To Believe That There's One

Still, It's An Interesting Technique-leaving One Person Behind In Order To Find Her Or Him Somewhere Else. And In Someone Else.

So If It Seems That Some Of What I'll Have To Say In The Pages To Come Doesn't Reflect The Mellowing Of Age, That's Only Because I've Never Found That Life And Memories Respond To Time The Way That Tobacco Does.

She Has That Quality, Does The Hudson, As I Imagine All Great Rivers Do: The Deep, Abiding Sense That Those Activities What Take Place On Shore Among Human Beings Are Of The Moment, Passing, And Aren't The Stories By Way Of Which The Greater Tale Of This Planet Will, In The End, Be Told.

Imagine, [kriezler] Said, That You Enter A Large, Somewhat Crumbling Hall That Echoes With The Sounds Of People Mumbling And Talking Repetitively To Themselves. All Around You These People Fall Into Prostrate Positions, Some Of Them Weeping. Where Are You? Sara’s Answer Was Immediate: In An Asylum. Perhaps, Kreizler Answered, But You Could Also Be In A Church. In The One Place The Behavior Would Be Considered Mad; In The Other, Not Only Sane, But As Respectable As Any Human Activity Can Be.

I Have To Be Very Careful, However, Because I Have No Intention Of Providing An Excuse For This Behavior. It's An Attempt To Explain How So Many Women Come From Backgrounds Where The Pressure To Be A Good Mother Is So Severe That If They Can't Do It, Something Really Snaps.