In Love, As In Finance, Only The

For Me Writing Is A Question Of Finding A Certain Rhythm. I Compare It To The Rhythms Of Jazz.

I Like Men To Behave Like Men. I Like Them Strong And Childish.

He Lifted Me Up And Held Me Close Against Him, My Head On His Shoulder. At That Moment I Loved Him. In The Morning Light He Was As Golden, As Soft, As Gentle As Myself, And He Would Protect Me.

Unhappiness Has Nothing To Teach, And Resignation Is Ugly.

My Love Of Pleasure Seems To Be The Only Consistent Side Of My Character. Is It Because I Have Not Read Enough?