Life Was An Impenetrable Mystery Cloaked In

There Was No Way To Grasp The Reality Of The Present Which Slid Away Each Second, Invisible As Air; Reality Only Existed After The Fact, In One's Vision Of The Past.

My First Job Was Working In A Dress Shop In Los Angeles In 1940, For $7 A Week.

When I Had A Few Francs, I Spent Them At A Café On The Place De Longchamps, A Block Or So From My Pension, Where I Could Order A Glass Of Beaujolais And A Plate Of String Beans In Vinaigrette For The Equivalent Of Fifteen Cents.

When There's A Terrible Murder People Who Are Interviewed Say, 'this Has Always Been A Quiet Neighborhood.' That Is So Dumb And Uninformed! The Earth Is Not A Quiet Neighborhood. There Isn't Anyplace That's A Quiet Neighborhood. People Are Asking Themselves How To Stay Neat In The Cyclone.

I Have A Painter's Memory. I Can Remember Things From My Childhood Which Were So Powerfully Imprinted On Me, The Whole Scene Comes Back.