Memory - The Very Skin

Now, My Novel Begins. No, Now I Begin My Novel—and Yet I Cannot Decide Whether To Call Myself I Or She.

I Am Alone Here In New York, No Longer A We.

The Future May Be An Enemy. Time Can Turn Happy Days And Nights Into Nothing.

They Had Created Themselves Together, And They Always Saw Themselves, Their Youth, Their Love, Their Lost Youth And Lost Love, Their Failures And Memories, As A Sort Of Living Fiction.

Books Give Not Wisdom Where None Was Before. But Where Some Is, There Reading Makes It More.