We Are Homesick Most For The Places

Listen,” F. Jasmine Said. “what I’ve Been Trying To Say Is This. Doesn’t It Strike You As Strange That I Am I, And You Are You? I Am F. Jasmine Addams. And You Are Berenice Sadie Brown. And We Can Look At Each Other, And Touch Each Other, And Stay Together Year In And Year Out In The Same Room. Yet Always I Am I, And You Are You. And I Can’t Ever Be Anything Else But Me, And You Can Ever Be Anything Else But You. Have You Ever Thought Of That? And Does It Seem To You Strange?

Nothing Is So Musical As The Sound Of Pouring Bourbon For The First Drink On A Sunday Morning. Not Bach Or Schubert Or Any Of Those Masters.

Because In Some Men It Is In Them To Give Up Everything Personal At Some Time, Before It Ferments And Poisons--throw It To Some Human Being Or Some Human Idea. They Have To.

It Was Like She Was Cheated. Only Nobody Had Cheated Her. So There Was Nobody To Take It Out On. However, Just The Same She Had That Feeling. Cheated.

I Want - I Want - I Want - Was All That She Could Think About - But Just What This Real Want Was She Did Not Know.