The Thing Is To Become A Master

Intelligence Is So Damn Rare And The People Who Have It Often Have Such A Bad Time With It That They Get Bitter Or Propagandistic And Then It's Not Much Use.

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

Your Blood Coagulates Beautifully.

I Had Gone To No Such Place But To The Smoke Of Cafes And Nights When The Room Whirled And You Needed To Look At The Wall To Make It Stop, Nights In Bed, Drunk, When You Knew That That Was All There Was, And The Strange Excitement Of Waking And Not Knowing Who It Was With You, And The World All Unreal In The Dark And So Exciting That You Must Resume Again Unknowing And Not Caring In The Night, Sure That This Was All And All And All And Not Caring.

It Was A Pleasant Cafe, Warm And Clean And Friendly, And I Hung Up My Old Water-proof On The Coat Rack To Dry And Put My Worn And Weathered Felt Hat On The Rack Above The Bench And Ordered A Cafe Au Lait. The Waiter Brought It And I Took Out A Notebook From The Pocket Of The Coat And A Pencil And Started To Write.