I Don't Think Two People

Accept That, Like Many Men, You Have A Streak Of The Homoerotic In You. Why Would You, Why Would Anyone, Want To Be That Straight?

What I Want To Say Is That I Owe All The Happiness Of My Life To You. You Have Been Entirely Patient With Me And Incredibly Good. Everything Is Gone From Me But The Certainty Of Your Goodness. I Can't Go On Spoiling Your Life Any Longer. I Don't Think Two People Could Have Been Happier Than We Have Been.

It's The World, You Live In It, Even If Some Boy Has Made A Fool Of You.

You Want To Give Him The Book Of His Own Life, The Book That Will Locate Him, Parent Him, Arm Him For The Changes.

Yes," She Answers And Does Not Move. She Might, At This Moment, Be Nothing But A Floating Intelligence; Not Even A Brain Inside A Skull, Just A Presence That Perceives, As A Ghoast Might. Yes, She Thinks, This Is Probably How It Must Feel To Be A Ghost. It's A Little Like Reading, Isn't It-that Same Sensation Of Knowing People, Settings, Situations, Without Playing Any Particular Part Beyond That Of The Willing Observer.