Ach, Tchekov! Why Are You Dead? Why

The Great Thing To Remember Is We Can Do Whatever We Wish To Do Provided Our Wish Is Strong Enough.

Winter Is A Terrible Time For Thin People - Terrible! Why Should It Hound Them Down, Fasten On Them, Worry Them So? Why Not, For A Change, Take A Nip, Take A Snap At The Fat Ones Who Wouldn't Notice? But No! It Is Sleek, Warm, Cat-like Summer That Makes The Fat One's Life A Misery. Winter Is All For Bones.

What Is It With Me? Am I Absolutely Nobody, But Merely Inordinately Vain? I Do Not Know…. But I Am Most Fearfully Unhappy. That Is All. I Am So Unhappy That I Wish I Was Dead—yet I Should Be Mad To Die When I Have Not Yet Lived At All.

I Feel I Must Live Alone, Alone, Alone - With Artists Only To Touch The Door. Every Artist Cuts Off His Ear And Nails It On The Outside Of The Door For The Others To Shout Into.

Do You Remember Your Childhood? I Am Always Coming Across These Marvelous Accounts By Writers Who Declare That They Remember 'everything.' I Certainly Don't. The Dark Stretches, The Blanks, Are Much Bigger Than The Bright Glimpses. I Seem To Have Spent Most Of My Time Like A Plant In A Cupboard.