As I Look Back, I See That

Age Doesn't Arrive Slowly, It Comes In A Rush. One Day Nothing Has Changed, A Week Later, Everything Has. A Week May Be Too Long A Time, It Can Happen Overnight. You Are The Same And Still The Same And Suddenly One Morning Two Distinct Lines, Ineradicable, Have Appeared At The Corners Of Your Mouth.

The Summer Has Ended. The Garden Withers. The Mornings Become Chill. I Am Thirty, I Am Thirty-four -the Years Turn Dry As Leaves.

We Were Moderate, We Will Never Know What It Is To Spill Out Our Lives.

Your Parents Are The Parents You Know Best. Your Brother And Sister, If You Have Them, Are The Brother And Sister You Know Best. They May Not Be The Ones You Like The Best. They May Not Be The Most Interesting, But They Are The Closest And Probably The Clearest To You.

In The War Time Many Of The Publishing Houses Were Privately Owned, A Single Publisher Or A Publisher And A Few Associates Who Were Responsible For Everything. They Could Take Whatever Risks They Wanted, Could Essentially Publish What They Liked According To Their Taste. Publishers Today Are Working For Big Corporations. They Have Different Pressures. I Don't Think They Can Make Decisions Quite As Independently As They Used To Be Able To. They Have More Corporate And Financial Responsibilities Weighing On Them. They're Not Free To Go Broke Or Go To Jail.