I Deserve That, Don't I, Some Sort

The Constant Struggle In Mature Life, I Think, Is To Accept The Necessity Of Tragedy And Conflict, And Not To Try To Escape To Some Falsely Simple Solution Which Does Not Include These More Somber Complexities.

That Afternoon My Mother Had Brought Me The Roses. "save Them For My Funeral," I'd Said.

I Am Terrified By This Dark Thing That Sleeps In Me; All Day I Feel Its Soft, Feathery Turnings, Its Malignity.

So Much Working, Reading, Thinking, Living To Do! A Lifetime Is Not Long Enough.

I Cut You Out Because I Couldn't Stand Being A Passing Fancy.