There Are Simply More Young People Than

I Knew That Part Of Friendship Consisted In Accepting A Friend’s Shortcomings, Which Sometimes Included His Parents.

It Was Hard To Remember In The Heavy And Sensual Clarity Of These Mornings; I Forgot Whom I Hated And Who Hated Me. I Wanted To Break Out Crying From Stabs Of Hopeless Joy, Or Intolerable Promise, Or Because These Mornings Were Too Full Of Beauty For Me, Because I Knew Of Too Much Hate To Be Contained In A World Like This.

Sarcasm Is The Protest Of The Weak.

As I Said, This Was My Sarcastic Summer. It Was Only Long After That I Recognized Sarcasm As The Protest Of People Who Are Weak.

Looking Back Now Across Fifteen Years I Could See With Great Clarity The Fear I Had Lived In, Which Must Mean That In The Interval I Had Succeeded In A Very Important Undertaking: I Must Have Made My Escape From It.