Banality Is Sometimes Striking.

It Has Been My Face. It's Got Older Still, Or Course, But Less, Comparatively, Than It Would Otherwise Have Done. It's Scored With Deep, Dry Wrinkles, The Skin Is Cracked. But My Face Hasn't Collapsed, As Some With Fine Feature Have Done. It's Kept The Same Contours, But Its Substance Has Been Laid Waste. I Have A Face Laid Waste.

We, Her Children, Are Heroic, Dersperate.

Get Rid Of Things Or You'll Spend Your Whole Life Tidying Up.

In A Certain State Of Mind, All Trace Of Feeling Is Banished. Whenever I Remain Silent In A Certain Way, I Don't Love You, Have You Noticed That?

He Says He’s Lonely, Horribly Lonely Because Of This Love He Feels For Her. She Says She’s Lonely Too. She Doesn’t Say Why.