If You Once Cede To The Court

Speech, Tennis, Music, Skiing, Manners, Love- You Try Them Waking And Perhaps Balk At The Jump, And Then You're Over. You've Caught The Rhythm Of Them Once And For All, In Your Sleep At Night. The City, Of Course, Can Wreck It. So Much Insomnia. So Many Rhythms Collide. The Salesgirl, The Landlord, The Guests, The Bystanders, Sixteen Varieties Of Social Circumstance In A Day. Everyone Has The Power To Call Your Whole Life Into Question Here. Too Many People Have Access To Your State Of Mind. Some People Are Indifferent To Dislike, Even Relish It. Hardly Anyone I Know.

There Are Times When Every Act, No Matter How Private And Unconscious, Becomes Political.

Intelligent People, Caught At Anything, Denied It. Faced With Evidence Of Having Denied It Falsely, People Said They Had Not Done It And Had Not Lied About It, And Didn't Remember It, But If They Had Done It, Or Lied About It, They Would Have Done It And Misspoken Themselves About It In An Interest So Much Higher As To Alter The Nature Of Doing And Lying Altogether.

Though Films Become More Daring Sexually, They Are Probably Less Sexy Than They Ever Were. There Haven't Been Any Convincing Love Scenes Or Romances In The Movies In A While. (nobody Even Seems To Neck In Theaters Any More.) ... When The Mechanics And Sadism Quotients Go Up, The Movie Love Interest Goes Dead, And The Film Just Lies There, Giving A Certain Amount Of Offense.

Moral Self-infatuation Has Its Own Corruptions, After All. With Time, Almost Every Other Principle Of The Magazine Acquired An Ironic Echo, A Sort Of Cackling Aftermath.