Now And Again Thousands Of Memories Converge,

Life Comes First, An Art Not Rooted In Human Experience Is Not Worth A Damn, But Different Kinds Of Minds Have Different Kinds Of Experience, And All I Ask Of Any Man Is Validity; And There Should Be Place For Every Type And Kind Of Mind.

I Am In Paris. Yes Ma'am , I Made It Back. I Came Up From Berlin, Stopped Here Ten Days, Fought A Losing Battle Against My Deepest Inclinations, Pulled Myself Out By The Hair And Went To Madrid...madrid Is A Lovely Enchanting City, And There Was Almost Ready For Me A Kind Of Penthouse Full Of Sunlight, A Roof Garden, And So On. I Gave One Look At It All, Returned To The Hotel And Went To Bed And Wept Bitterly For Eleven Hours...why? Because I Had Seen Paris And Could Not Endure The Thought Of Being Anywhere Else.

The Very Thing About People That Makes The Human Race Interesting Is Also The Thing That Makes It So Hard To Get Anything Done Without The Most Horrible Confusions: No Two People Think Exactly The Same Way About Anything.

One Little Human Truth Is That Opinionated People Don't Hold Much With Other People's Opinions, And It Is A Great Pleasure To Some Of Them To Be Able To Ascribe Incurable Defects, Such As Belonging To A Certain Sex; Or Base Motives, Or Lack Of Understanding, To Anyone Whose Views They Disagree With.

The Greatest Art Comes Out Of Warmth And Conviction And Deep Feeling, But Then, Very Few People, Even Geniuses, Have All That.