Death Is The Only Real Elegance.

Women Sometimes Seem To Share A Quiet, Unalterable Dogma Of Persecution That Endows Even The Most Sophisticated Of Them With The Inarticulate Poignancy Of The Peasant.

Anything Incomprehensible Has A Sexual Significance To Many People Under Thirty-five.

We Get Something To Do And As Soon As We've Got It, It Gets Us.

I Wish We Could Spend July By The Sea, Browning Ourselves And Feeling Water-weighted Hair Flow Behind Us From A Dive. I Wish Our Gravest Concerns Were The Summer Gnats. I Wish We Were Hungry For Hot Dogs And Dopes, And It Would Be Nice To Smell The Starch Of Summer Linens And The Faint Odor Of Talc In Blistering Summer Bath Houses ... We Could Lie In Long Citoneuse Beams Of The Five O'clock Sun On The Plage At Juan-les-pins And Hear The Sound Of The Drum And Piano Being Scooped Out To Sea By The Waves.

There's Nothing On Earth To Do Here But Look At The View And Eat. You Can Imagine The Result Since I Do Not Like To Look At Views.