I Cannot Exist Without The Oxygen Of

A Writer's Business Is Minding Other People's Business ... All The Vices Of The Village Gossip Are The Virtues Of The Writer.

I Realize More And More How Instinctively Pessimistic I Am Of All Human Kindness -- Since I Am Always So Bowled Over By It -- And Am Never Surprised By Injustice, Malice Or Personal Attack.

An Evening Up On The Empire State Roof-the Strangest Experience. The Huge Tomb In Steel And Glass, The Ride To The 84th Floor And There, Under The Clouds, A Hawaiian String Quartet, Lounge, Concessions And, A Thousand Feet Below, New York-a Garden Of Golden Lights Winking On And Off, Automobiles, Trucks Winding In And Out, And Not A Sound. All As Silent As A Dead City-and It Looks Adagio Down There.

I Want So Much For My Lover. At Night When Our Beds Are Drawn Close Together I Waken And See His Dear Yellow Head On The Pillow - Sometimes His Arm Thrown Over On My Bed - And I Kiss His Hand, Very Softly So That It Will Not Waken Him.

The Human Comedy Is Always Tragic, But Since Its Ingredients Are Always The Same - Dupe, Fox, Straight, Like Burlesque Skits - The Repetition Through The Ages Is Comedy.