Consciousness Was Upon Him Before He Could

The World That Seemed So Various And New, Well, It Does Contract. One's Burning Desire To Investigate Human Behavior, And To Make, Or Imply, Statements About It, Does Fall Off. And So One Does Find That Early Works Are Full Of Energy And Also Full Of Vulgarity, Crudity, And Incompetence, And Later Works Are More Carefully Finished, And In That Sense Better Literary Products. But . . . There's Often A Freshness That Is Missing In Later Works--for Every Gain There's A Loss. I Think It Evens Out In That Way.

Now And Then I Become Conscious Of Having The Reputation Of Being One Of The Great Drinkers, If Not One Of The Great Drunks, Of Our Time.

Man's Love Is Of Man's Life A Thing Apart;girls Aren't Like That.

I've Been Trying To Write For As Long As I Can Remember. But Those First Fifteen Years Didn't Produce Much Of Great Interest. I Mean, It Embarrasses Me Very Much To Look Back On My Early Poems--very Few Lines Of Any Merit At All And Lots Of Affectation. But There Were Quite A Lot Of Them. That's A Point In One's Favor.

Jake Was Close To Tears. In That Moment He Saw The World In Its True Light, As A Place Where Nothing Had Ever Been Any Good And Nothing Of Significance Done: No Art Worth A Second Look, No Philosophy Of The Slightest Appositeness, No Law But Served The State, No History That Gave An Inkling Of How It Had Been And What Had Happened. And No Love, Only Egotism, Infatuation And Lust.