If I Had The Choice Of Knowing

Ooooh," Kate Groans, Kate Herself Now. "i'm So Afraid." "i Know." "what Am I Going To Do?" "you Mean Right Now?" "yes." "we'll Go To My Car. Then We'll Drive Down To The French Market And Get Some Coffee. Then We'll Go Home." "is Everything Going To Be All Right?" "yes." "tell Me. Say It." "everything Is Going To Be All Right.

Not To Be Onto Something Is To Be In Despair.

I Sometimes Think Novelists Write About Sex In Order To Avoid Boring Themselves To Death.

I Had Discovered That A Person Does Not Have To Be This Or Be That Or Be Anything, Not Even Oneself. One Is Free.

Have You Noticed That Only In Time Of Illness Or Disaster Or Death Are People Real?