When I Think About It, If I

I'm No Use To Anybody,' I Say. 'i'm A Cérébrale, Can't You See That?' Thinking How Funny A Book Would Be, Called 'just A Cérébrale Or You Can't Stop Me From Dreaming'. Only, Of Course, To Be Accepted As Authentic, To Carry Any Conviction, It Would Have To Be Written By A Man. What A Pity, What A Pity!

Next Week, Or Next Month, Or Next Year I Will Kill Myself. But I Might As Well Last Out My Month's Rent, Which Has Been Paid Up.

Now At Last I Know Why I Was Brought Here And What I Have To Do.

Life If Curious When Reduced To Its Essentials

A Room Is, After All, A Place Where You Hide From The Wolves. That's All Any Room Is.