It’s Just Life. You Can’t Beat Life.

She Sits In Her Usual Ample Armchair, With Piles Of Books And Unopened Magazines Around Her. She Sips Cautiously From The Mug Of Weak Herb Tea Which Is Now Her Substitute For Coffee. At One Time She Thought That She Could Not Live Without Coffee, But It Turned Out That It Is Really The Warm Large Mug She Wants In Her Hands, That Is The Aid To Thought Or Whatever It Is She Practices Through The Procession Of Hours, Or Of Days.

The Story Fails But Your Faith In The Importance Of Doing The Story Doesn't Fail.

And Now Such A Warm Commotion, Such Busy Love.

Speculation Can Be More Gentle, Can Take Its Time, When It Is Not Driven By Desire.

The Images, The Language, Of Pornography, And Romance Are Alike; Monotonous And Mechanically Seductive, Quickly Leading To Despair.