I Did Not Find Him

To Jealousy, Nothing Is More Frightful Than Laughter.

Looking For Pleasure Is The Best Way To Ensure You Won't Find It.

A Strange Melancholy Pervades Me To Which I Hesitate To Give The Grave And Beautiful Name Of Sorrow. The Idea Of Sorrow Has Always Appealed To Me But Now I Am Almost Ashamed Of It's Complete Egoism. I Have Known Boredom, Regret, And Occasionally Remorse, But Never Sorrow. Today It Envelops Me Like A Silken Web, Enervating And Soft, And Sets Me Apart From Everybody Else.

It Seems To Me That There Are Two Kinds Of Trickery: The "fronts" People Assume Before One Another's Eyes, And The "front" A Writer Puts On The Face Of Reality.

One Partner Is Always More In Love Than The Other.