After All, When You Come Right Down

What A Weird Thing Smoking Is And I Can't Stop It. I Feel Cosy, Have A Sense Of Well-being When I'm Smoking, Poisoning Myself, Killing Myself Slowly. Not So Slowly Maybe. I Have All Kinds Of Pains I Don't Want To Know About And I Know That's What They're From. But When I Don't Smoke I Scarcely Feel As If I'm Living. I Don't Feel As If I'm Living Unless I'm Killing Myself.

An Ordinary Mirror Is Silvered At The Back But The Window Of The Night Train Has Darkness Behind The Glass. My Face And The Faces Of Other Travellers Were Now Mirrored On This Darkness In A Succession Of Stillnesses. Consider This, Said The Darkness: Any Motion At Any Speed Is A Succession Of Stillnesses; Any Section Through An Action Will Show Just Such A Plane Of Stillness As This Dark Window In Which Your Seeking Face Is Mirrored. And In Each Plane Of Stillness Is The Moment Of Clarity That Makes You Responsible For What You Do.

There Must Be A Lot Of People In The World Being Wondered About By People Who Don't See Them Anymore.

Nothing To Be Done Really About Animals. Anything You Do Looks Foolish. The Answer Isn't In Us. It's Almost As If Were Put Here On Earth To Show How Silly They Aren't.

Time's Arrow, We Are Told, Is A One-way Thing. . . Memory's Arrow, Like The Needle Of A Compass Too Close To A Lodestone, Spins In All Directions.