I Love To Praise What I Love,

I Am In Paris. Yes Ma'am , I Made It Back. I Came Up From Berlin, Stopped Here Ten Days, Fought A Losing Battle Against My Deepest Inclinations, Pulled Myself Out By The Hair And Went To Madrid...madrid Is A Lovely Enchanting City, And There Was Almost Ready For Me A Kind Of Penthouse Full Of Sunlight, A Roof Garden, And So On. I Gave One Look At It All, Returned To The Hotel And Went To Bed And Wept Bitterly For Eleven Hours...why? Because I Had Seen Paris And Could Not Endure The Thought Of Being Anywhere Else.

If I Didn't Know The Ending Of A Story, I Wouldn't Begin. I Always Write My Last Lines, My Last Paragraph First, And Then I Go Back And Work Towards It. I Know Where I'm Going. I Know What My Goal Is. And How I Get There Is God's Grace.

Death Is Loneliness In Its Purest Form.

There Seems To Be A Kind Of Order In The Universe…in The Movement Of The Stars And The Turning Of The Earth And The Changing Of The Seasons. But Human Life Is Almost Pure Chaos. Everyone Takes His Stance, Asserts His Own Right And Feelings, Mistaking The Motives Of Others, And His Own.

You Are Right, None Of Us Live Enough, And Sometimes I Think It Is Because We Mistake Hurrah And Hullabaloo For Experience, We Get A Sock In The Eye And Think It Is A Broken Heart.