One Must Talk. That's How It Is.

It Has Been My Face. It's Got Older Still, Or Course, But Less, Comparatively, Than It Would Otherwise Have Done. It's Scored With Deep, Dry Wrinkles, The Skin Is Cracked. But My Face Hasn't Collapsed, As Some With Fine Feature Have Done. It's Kept The Same Contours, But Its Substance Has Been Laid Waste. I Have A Face Laid Waste.

Even So You Have Managed To Live That Love In The Only Way Possible For You. Losing It Before It Happened.

All That Remains Of That Minute Is Time In All Its Purity, Bone-white Time.

Drinking Isn't Necessarily The Same As Wanting To Die. But You Can't Drink Without Thinking You're Killing Yourself.

What Stops You Killing Yourself When You're Intoxicated Out Of Your Mind Is The Thought That Once You're Dead You Won't Be Able To Drink Any More.