I Sometimes Think Novelists Write About Sex

Joy And Sadness Come By Turns.

They All Think Any Minute I'm Going To Commit Suicide. What A Joke. The Truth Of Course Is The Exact Opposite: Suicide Is The Only Thing That Keeps Me Alive. Whenever Everything Else Fails, All I Have To Do Is Consider Suicide And In Two Seconds I'm As Cheerful As A Nitwit. But If I Could Not Kill Myself -- Ah Then, I Would. I Can Do Without Nembutal Or Murder Mysteries But Not Without Suicide.

How Did It Happen That Now He Could See Everything So Clearly. Something Had Given Him Leave To Live In The Present. Not Once In His Entire Life Had He Come To Rest In The Quiet Center Of Himself But Had Forever Cast Himself From Some Dark Past He Could Not Remember To A Future That Did Not Exist. Not Once Had He Been Present For His Life. So His Life Had Passed Like A Dream. Is It Possible For People To Miss Their Lives The Way One Can Miss A Plane?

In This World, Goodness Is Destined To Be Defeated.

It Is Not A Bad Thing To Settle For The Little Way, Not The Big Search For The Big Happiness But The Sad Little Happiness Of Drinks And Kisses, A Good Little Car And A Warm Deep Thigh.