I Am Really Only Myself When I'm

I Remember Every Single Spot Of Light That Ever Gouged A Shadow Beside Your Bones.

Being In Love, She Concluded, Is Simply A Presentation Of Our Pasts To Another Individual, Mostly Packages So Unwieldy That We Can No Longer Manage The Loosened Strings Alone.

One Illusion Is As Good As Another.

Without You, Dearest Dearest I Couldn't See Or Hear Or Feel Or Think - Or Live - I Love You So And I'm Never In All Our Lives Going To Let Us Be Apart Another Night.

It Seems To Me That On One Page I Recognized A Portion Of An Old Diary Of Mine Which Mysteriously Disappeared Shortly After My Marriage, And, Also, Scraps Of Letters Which, Though Considerably Edited, Sound To Me Vaguely Familiar. In Fact, Mr. Fitzgerald (i Believe That Is How He Spells His Name) Seems To Believe That Plagiarism Begins At Home.