I Realize More And More How Instinctively

You Woke In The Morning With The Weight Of Doom On Your Head. You Lay With Eyes Shut Wondering Why You Dreaded The Day; Was It A Debt, Was It A Lost Love? -and Then You Remembered The Nightmare....this Was No Time For Beauty, For Love, Or Private Future....there Was No Future; Everyone Waited, Marked Time, Waited. For What?

Satire Is People As They Are; Romanticism, People As They Would Like To Be; Realism, People As They Seem With Their Insides Left Out.

A Novel Must Be A Rich Forest Known At The Start Only By Instinct.

I Want So Much For My Lover. At Night When Our Beds Are Drawn Close Together I Waken And See His Dear Yellow Head On The Pillow - Sometimes His Arm Thrown Over On My Bed - And I Kiss His Hand, Very Softly So That It Will Not Waken Him.

Hold Fast To Whatever Fragments Of Love That Exist, For Sometimes A Mosaic Is More Beautiful Than An Unbroken Pattern.