David Was Catnip And Kryptonite To Me.

This Person Had Arrived, He Had Illuminated Her, He Had Ensorcelled Her With Notions Of Miracle And Beauty, He Had Both Understood And Misunderstood Her, He Had Married Her, He Had Broken Her Heart, He Had Looked Upon Her With Those Sad And Hopeless Eyes, He Had Accepted His Banishment, And Now He Was Gone. What A Stark And Stunning Thing Was Life- That Such A Cataclysm Can Enter And Depart So Quickly, And Leave Such Wreckage Behind!

Also, I Could Finally Sleep. And This Was The Real Gift, Because When You Cannot Sleep, You Cannot Get Yourself Out Of The Ditch--there's Not A Chance.

She Followed The Pleasure Where It Led. She Had No Weight, No Name, No Thoughts, No History. Then Came A Burst Of Phosphorescence, As Though A Firework Had Discharged Behind Her Eyes, And It Was Over. She Felt Quiet And Warm. For The First Conscious Moment Of Her Life, Her Mind Was Free From Wonder, Free From Worry, Free From Work Or Puzzlement. Then, From The Middle Of That Marvelous Furred Stillness, A Thought Took Shape, Took Hold, Took Over. I Shall Have To Do This Again.

My Husband Is Not American. He Was Born In Brazil, Where He Grew Up Under A Filthy, Corrupt Dictatorship. In His Twenties, He Moved To Europe, Where He Lived For A While Under Various Socialist Democracies. He Spent A Few Years On A Kibbutz In Israel, Living Out A Utopian Experiment In Communal Existence.

If You're Alive, You're A Creative Person.