It Was Almost Enough To Make Me

And So As Much As I Can, I Care About Her, Dear Deborah. It's Probably Not Love, But I Would Rather She Were Happy.

Saturday Morning Was Their Unrestricted Television Time, And They Usually Took Advantage Of It To Watch A Series Of Cartoon Shows That Would Certainly Have Been Impossible Before The Discovery Of Lsd.

Weren't We All Crazy In Our Sleep? What Was Sleep, After All, But The Process By Which We Dumped Our Insanity Into A Dark Subconscious Pit And Came Out On The Other Side Ready To Eat Cereal Instead Of Our Neighbor's Children?

...she Opened The Door Very Slowly And Carefully, Half Hiding Behind It, As If Badly Frightened Of What Might Be Waiting For Her On The Other Side. And Considering That It Was Me Waiting, This Showed Rare Common Sense.

Nothing Else Loves Me, Or Ever Will. Not Even - Especially - Me. I Know What I Am And That Is Not A Thing To Love.