It's Funny, He Said, Have You Ever

I Am Sad, Sad As A Circus-lioness.

Every Word I Say Has Chains Round Its Ankles; Every Thought I Think Is Weighted With Heavy Weights.

But They Never Last, The Golden Days. And It Can Be Sad, The Sun In The Afternoon, Can't It? Yes, It Can Be Sad, The Afternoon Sun, Sad And Frightening.

You Imagine The Carefully Pruned, Shaped Thing That Is Presented To You Is Truth. That Is Just What It Isn't. The Truth Is Improbable, The Truth Is Fantastic; It's In What You Think Is A Distorting Mirror That You See The Truth.

I'm No Use To Anybody,' I Say. 'i'm A Cérébrale, Can't You See That?' Thinking How Funny A Book Would Be, Called 'just A Cérébrale Or You Can't Stop Me From Dreaming'. Only, Of Course, To Be Accepted As Authentic, To Carry Any Conviction, It Would Have To Be Written By A Man. What A Pity, What A Pity!