You Can Pretend For A Long Time,

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.

It Is Strange How Sad It Can Be - Sunlight In The Afternoon, Don't You Think?

All Of A Writer That Matters Is In The Book Or Books. It Is Idiotic To Be Curious About The Person.

...morbidly, Attracted Him To Strangeness, To Recklessnesss, Even Unhappiness.

After All This, What Happened? What Happened Was That, As Soon As I Had The Slightest Chance Of A Place To Hide In, I Crept Into It And Hid. Well, Sometimes It's A Fine Day Isn't It? Sometimes The Skies Are Blue. Sometimes The Air Is Light, Easy To Breathe. And There Is Always Tomorrow.