You do not believe me. Why won’t you believe me? Whose vengeance is it that keeps cursing me for my making an evermore ghastly investment in what’s to be made over to me from my more and more telling all? …
On page 89 I was thinking about Picasso’s collection.
Not one impressionist painting,
not one painting in which light plays any part.
Not even in the admirable Cezanne,
not even in the large Renoir.
I could see in my mind’s …