I Think Everybody Has A Secret Life.

Guilleaume Left La Praline With A Small Bag Of Florentines In His Pocket; Before He Had Turned The Corner Of Avenue Des Francs Bourgeois I Saw Him Stoop To Offer One To The Dog. A Pat, A Bark, A Wagging Of The Short Stubby Tail. As I Said, Some People Never Have To Think About Giving.

Some Things Can Be Both Real And Imaginary At The Same Time, . . . Some Lies Can Be True, . . . Broken Faith May Be Restored.

I Speak As I Must And Cannot Be Silent.

In My Dreams I Gorge On Chocolates, I Roll In Chocolates, And Their Texture Is Not Brittle But Soft As Flesh, Like A Thousand Mouths On My Body, Devouring Me In Fluttering Small Bites. To Die Beneath Their Tender Gluttony Seems The Culmination Of Every Temptation I Have Ever Known.

I'm Incapable Of Hiding My Feelings When I'm Around Someone I Don't Like.