If You Don't Stay In Some Days,

Even A Monotonously Undeviating Path Of Self-examination Does Not Necessarily Lead To Self-knowledge. I Stumble Towards My Grave Confused And Hurt And Hungry.

Another Friend Began To Say, "well, Quentin Has A Problem Of Adjusting Himself To Society And He..." This Sentence Was Never Finished. The Ballet Teacher Expostulated, "i Don't Agree. Quentin Does Exactly As He Pleases. The Rest Of Us Have To Adapt Ourselves To Him."

In Manhattan, Every Flat Surface Is A Potential Stage And Every Inattentive Waiter An Unemployed, Possibly Unemployable, Actor.

Nearly Always When Actors Are Approached By The Beauticians, They Try To Avoid The Dabs That The Beauticians Put On Their Faces. They Dodge Them.

I Don't Think I Have A Tragic Demeanor.