Blank Paper Has Always Inspired

This Is An Absurd Moral, For You And I Both Know That Sometimes Not Only Is It Good To Lie, It Is Necessary To Lie.

The Violins Waltzed. The Cellos And Basses Provided Accompaniment. The Violas Mourned Their Fate, While The Concertmaster Showed Off. The Flutes Did Bird Imitations…repeatedly, And The Reed Instruments Had The Good Taste To Admire My Jacket. The Trumpets Held A Parade In Honor Of Our Great Nation, While The French Horns Waxed Nostalgic About Something Or Other. The Trombones Had Too Much To Drink. The Percussion Beat The Band, And The Tuba Stayed Home Playing Cards With His Landlady, The Harp, Taking Sips Of Warm Milk A Blue Little Cup. “but The Composer Is Still Dead.

The Idea That The Curtain Rises On What Is Often More Or Less A Happy Scene, And It Will Fall Just A Few Hours Later, And Everyone Will Be Dead Or Have Gone Mad... I Find That Kind Of Narrative Very Appealing.

Count Olaf Sounds Like An Awful Person. I Hope He Is Torn Apart By Wild Animals Someday. Wouldn't That Be Satisfying?

For Beatrice- When We Were Together I Felt Breathless. Now You Are.