Jay Sebring Cut My Hair A Couple

Home Is Where You Feel At Home. I'm Still Looking.

Poor Slob Without A Name. It's A Little Inconvenient, His Not Having A Name. But I Haven't The Right To Give Him One: He'll Have To Wait Until He Belongs To Somebody. We Just Sort Of Took Up By The River One Day, We Don't Belong To Each Other: He's An Independent, And So Am I. I Don't Want To Own Anything Until I Know I've Found The Place Where Me And Things Belong Together.

There's Something Really The Matter With Most People Who Wear Tattoos. There's At Least Some Terrible Story. I Know From Experience That There's Always Something Terribly Flawed About People Who Are Tattooed, Above Some Little Something That Johnny Had Done In The Navy, Even Though That's A Bad Sign...it's Terrible. Psychologically It's Crazy. Most People Who Are Tattooed, It's The Sign Of Some Feeling Of Inferiority, They're Trying To Establish Some Macho Identification For Themselves.

Did You Ever, In That Wonderland Wilderness Of Adolesence [sic] Ever, Quite Unexpectedly, See Something, A Dusk Sky, A Wild Bird, A Landscape, So Exquisite Terror Touched You At The Bone? And You Are Afraid, Terribly Afraid The Smallest Movement, A Leaf, Say, Turning In The Wind, Will Shatter All? That Is, I Think, The Way Love Is, Or Should Be: One Lives In Beautiful Terror.

So The Days, The Last Days, Blow About In A Memory, Hazy Autumnal, All Alike As Leaves: Until A Day Unlike Any Other I've Lived