We None Of Us Talk To People

Most Of The Pleasure Of Making A Book Would Go If It Held Nothing To Be Shared By Other People. I Would Write For A Few Dozen People, And Sometimes It Seems That I Do So, But I Would Not Write For No-one.

I Never Agree With The Compliments Paid To It. It Is Not A Great Healer. It Is An Indifferent And Perfunctory One. Sometimes It Does Not Heal At All. And Sometimes When It Seems To, No Healing Has Been Necessary.

There Isn't Much To Say. I Haven't Been At All Deedy.

Our Desires Have A Way Of Getting Bigger With Our Incomes.

What Concerns Anyone So Much As The Time He Has To Live?