So This Is Where The Years Of

Words Are Our Life. We Are Human Because We Use Language. So I Think We Are Less Human When We Use Less Language.

There Are Chapters In Every Life Which Are Seldom Read And Certainly Not Aloud.

So This Is Where The Years Of Maturity Deliver Us - To This Needy, Selfish, Unwieldy Wish To Be Somebody Else's First And Primal Other.

I'm Concerned About The Unknowability Of Other People.

We Are Too Kind, Too Willing--too Unwilling Too--reaching Out Blindly With A Grasping Hand But Not Knowing How To Ask For What We Don't Even Know We Want.