Got Tight On Absinthe Last Night. Did

No One You Love Is Ever Truly Lost.

You Are So Brave And Quiet I Forget You Are Suffering.

When We Came Back To Paris It Was Clear And Cold And Lovely.

I Wonder What Your Idea Of Heaven Would Be — A Beautiful Vacuum Filled With Wealthy Monogamists. All Powerful And Members Of The Best Families All Drinking Themselves To Death. And Hell Would Probably An Ugly Vacuum Full Of Poor Polygamists Unable To Obtain Booze Or With Chronic Stomach Disorders That They Called Secret Sorrows.

Try And Write Straight English; Never Using Slang Except In Dialogue And Then Only When Unavoidable. Because All Slang Goes Sour In A Short Time. I Only Use Swear Words, For Example, That Have Lasted At Least A Thousand Years For Fear Of Getting Stuff That Will Be Simply Timely And Then Go Sour.