The Door Of The Novel, Like The

I Am Solitary As Grass. What Is It I Miss? Shall I Ever Find It, Whatever It Is?

But When It Came Right Down To It, The Skin Of My Wrist Looked So White And Defensless That I Couldn't Do It. It Was As If What I Wanted To Kill Wasn't In That Skin Or The Thin Blue Pulse That Jumped Under My Thumb, But Somewhere Else, Deeper, More Secret, And A Whole Lot Harder To Get.

With That Strange Knowing That Comes Over Me, Like A Clairvoyance, I Know That I Am Sure Of Myself And My Enormous And Alarmingly Timeless Love For You; Which Will Always Be.

If They Substituted The Word 'lust' For 'love' In The Popular Songs It Would Come Nearer The Truth.

A Ring Of Gold With The Sun In It? Lies. Lies And A Grief.