The Perpetual Hunger To Be Beautiful And

For The First Time She Had Dimly Realized That Only The Hopeless Are Starkly Sincere And That Only The Unhappy Can Either Give Or Take Sympathy--even Some Of The Bitter And Dangerous Voluptuousness Of Misery.

A Room? A Nice Room? A Beautiful Room? A Beautiful Room With Bath? Swing High, Swing Low, Swing To And Fro...this Happened And That Happened... And Then The Days Came And I Was Alone.

Age Seldom Arrives Smoothly Or Quickly. It's More Often A Succession Of Jerks.

My Life, Which Seems So Simple And Monotonous, Is Really A Complicated Affair Of Cafés Where They Like Me And Cafés Where They Don't, Streets That Are Friendly, Streets That Aren't, Rooms Where I Might Be Happy, Rooms Where I Shall Never Be, Looking-glasses I Look Nice In, Looking-glasses I Don't, Dresses That Will Be Lucky, Dresses That Won't, And So On.

If I Was Bound For Hell, Let It Be Hell. No More False Heaven. No More Damned Magic.