He Who Truly Believes He Has A

I've Been Trying To Write For As Long As I Can Remember. But Those First Fifteen Years Didn't Produce Much Of Great Interest. I Mean, It Embarrasses Me Very Much To Look Back On My Early Poems--very Few Lines Of Any Merit At All And Lots Of Affectation. But There Were Quite A Lot Of Them. That's A Point In One's Favor.

Jake Was Close To Tears. In That Moment He Saw The World In Its True Light, As A Place Where Nothing Had Ever Been Any Good And Nothing Of Significance Done: No Art Worth A Second Look, No Philosophy Of The Slightest Appositeness, No Law But Served The State, No History That Gave An Inkling Of How It Had Been And What Had Happened. And No Love, Only Egotism, Infatuation And Lust.

I Am Always Incorrigibly Interested In The Behaviour Of The 'human Animal', And Look Forward To Perusing Divers Effusions Of Your Lively Pen.

More Always Means Worse.

Nice Things Are Nicer Than Nasty Ones.