Age Seldom Arrives Smoothly Or Quickly. It's

I Am Empty Of Everything. I Am Empty Of Everything But The Thin, Frail Ghosts In My Room.

One Realized All Sorts Of Things. The Value Of An Illusion, For Instance, And That The Shadow Can Be More Important Than The Substance. All Sorts Of Things.

My Life, Which Seems So Simple And Monotonous, Is Really A Complicated Affair Of Cafés Where They Like Me And Cafés Where They Don't, Streets That Are Friendly, Streets That Aren't, Rooms Where I Might Be Happy, Rooms Where I Shall Never Be, Looking-glasses I Look Nice In, Looking-glasses I Don't, Dresses That Will Be Lucky, Dresses That Won't, And So On.

Very Few People Change After Well Say Seven Or Seventeen. Not Really. They Get More This Or More That And Of Course Look A Bit Different. But Inside They Are The Same.

I Think That The Desire To Be Cruel And To Hurt (with Words Because Any Other Way Might Be Dangerous To Ourself) Is Part Of Human Nature. Parties Are Battles (most Parties), A Conversation Is A Duel (often). Everybody's Trying To Hurt First, To Get In The Dig That Will Make Him Or Her Feel Superior, Feel Triumph.