She Had Left Me Thirsty And All

And What Does Anyone Know About Traitors, Or Why Judas Did What He Did?

The Feeling Of Sunday Is The Same Everywhere, Heavy, Melancholy, Standing Still.

Soon He'll Come In Again And Kiss Me, But Differently. He'll Be Different And So I'll Be Different. It'll Be Different. I Thought, 'it'll Be Different, Different. It Must Be Different.

After All This, What Happened? What Happened Was That, As Soon As I Had The Slightest Chance Of A Place To Hide In, I Crept Into It And Hid. Well, Sometimes It's A Fine Day Isn't It? Sometimes The Skies Are Blue. Sometimes The Air Is Light, Easy To Breathe. And There Is Always Tomorrow.

For The First Time She Had Dimly Realized That Only The Hopeless Are Starkly Sincere And That Only The Unhappy Can Either Give Or Take Sympathy--even Some Of The Bitter And Dangerous Voluptuousness Of Misery.