The Final Lesson A Writer Learns Is

We Did Not Touch Each Other. We Were Both Leaning Over The Abyss.

Stations And Airports Are Rehearsals For Separations By Death.

When One Is Pretending The Entire Body Revolts.

It Is Difficult To Live With The Pure. They Do Not Condemn You; They Forgive You. This Forgiveness Is More Terrible Than A Judgment.

In Each Studio There Is A Human Being Dressed In The Full Regalia Of His Myth Fearing To Expore A Vulnerable Opening, Spreading Not His Charms But His Defences, Plotting To Disrobe, Somewhere Along The Night-- His Body Without The Aperture Of The Heart Or His Heart With A Door Closed To His Body. Thus Keeping One Compartment For Refuge, One Uninvaded Cell.