Sometimes Awful Things Have Their Own Beauty.

Every Writer Has Certain Subjects That They Write About Again And Again, And . . . Most People's Books Are Just Variations On Certain Themes.

His Life Has Been Lived, So Far, Within Narrow Limits And He Is Quite Naïve About Most Kinds Of Experience; He Fears It And Yet Is Wildly Eager For It. To Reassure Himself, He Converts It Into Epic Myth As Fast As It Happens. He Is Forever Play-acting.

Someone Has To Ask You A Question," George Continues Meaningly, "before You Can Answer It. But It's So Seldom You Find Anyone Who'll Ask The Right Questions. Most People Aren't That Much Interested.

Think Of Two People, Living Together Day After Day, Year After Year, In This Small Space, Standing Elbow To Elbow Cooking At The Same Small Stove, Squeezing Past Each Other On The Narrow Stairs, Shaving In Front Of The Same Small Bathroom Mirror, Constantly Jogging, Jostling, Bumping Against Each Other’s Bodies By Mistake Or On Purpose, Sensually, Aggressively, Awkwardly, Impatiently, In Rage Or In Love – Think What Deep Though Invisible Tracks They Must Leave, Everywhere, Behind Them!

Hollywood's Two Polar Types Are The Cynically Drunken Writer Aggressively Nursing A Ten-year-old Reputation And The Theatrically Self-conscious Hermit Who Strides The Boulevard In Sandals, Home-made Shorts And A Prophetic Beard, Muttering Against The Age Of The Machines.