Something Came Out From My Heart Into

She Could Give Herself Up To The Written Word As Naturally As A Good Dancer To Music Or A Fine Swimmer To Water. The Only Difficulty Was That After Finishing The Last Sentence She Was Left With A Feeling At Once Hollow And Uncomfortably Full. Exactly Like Indigestion.

If All Good, Respectable People Had One Face, I'd Spit In It.

When I Think About It, If I Had To Choose, I'd Rather Be Happy Than Write.

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.

Even The One Moment That You Thought Was Your Eternity Fades Out And Is Forgotten And Dies.