Some Must Cry So That Others May

I Like Shape Very Much. A Novel Has To Have Shape, And Life Doesn't Have Any.

Something Came Out From My Heart Into My Throat And Then Into My Eyes.

Yes, I Am Sad, Sad As A Circus-lioness, Sad As An Eagle Without Wings, Sad As A Violin With Only One String And That One Broken, Sad As A Woman Who Is Growing Old. Sad, Sad, Sad.

I've Been So Ridiculous All My Life That A Little Bit More Or A Little Bit Less Hardly Matters Now.

...morbidly, Attracted Him To Strangeness, To Recklessnesss, Even Unhappiness.