If You Read A Novel In More

Literature Takes A Habit Of Mind That Has Disappeared. It Requires Silence, Some Form Of Isolation, And Sustained Concentration In The Presence Of An Enigmatic Thing.

Dreams? If Only They Had Been! But I Don't Need Dreams, Doctor, That's Why I Hardly Have Them—because I Have This Life Instead. With Me It All Happens In Broad Daylight!

Like All Enjoyable Things, You See, It Has Unenjoyable Parts To It.

The Only Obsession Everyone Wants: 'love.' People Think That In Falling In Love They Make Themselves Whole? The Platonic Union Of Souls? I Think Otherwise. I Think You're Whole Before You Begin. And The Love Fractures You. You're Whole, And Then You're Cracked Open.

I Was Gushing And I Knew It. I Surprised Myself With My Eagerness To Please, Felt Myself Saying Too Much, Explaining Too Much, Overinvolved And Overexcited In The Way You Are When You're A Kid And You Think You've Found A Soul Mate In The New Boy Down The Street And You Feel Yourself Drawn By The Force Of The Courtship And So Act As You Don't Normally Do And A Lot More Openly Than You May Even Want To.