The good-looking, tall, and elegant Lueger Eventually made a sensible marriage. His mother did not answer, but went on noiselessly crying. His father was delighted. Families do not always come together neatly in tragedy. I sat with him and said yes to everything he said. Friday night I was seized with the old guilt. "I pity his ugliness." That is how I went around for the next four weeks. I had come to fear and hate this room of his. I too was horrified at the banality of it. But how charming the yellow curtains looked. We spurred each other on with optimism. It’s just Christianity turned inside out. Beethoven wasn’t a eunuch, But he died like a tailor. The issue of all must depend on one question: Are there two kinds of harmonies of lies? There were a row of mud huts in the desert The bending grace of the submissive rendering of soul. I sat with him and said yes to everything he said. vi. In London, complaining about the insipid food, He pronounced the words with a certain distaste. Yes, doctor. Yes. Oh, thank God. Yes. There’s nothing I hate more Than the noise of cultured eminent people. Why do I not paint Madonna’s instead? I own that I cannot answer absolutely. The eyes must be delicate indeed. Disappearance is part of the trick. I think we must behave like the mother of the family. He was not in financial straits all the time, But he was acting like his father had acted. His freedom had begun to bore him, Which changed the whole pattern of our relationship. The outbreak of World War II The aimless 20 year journey He comes. We talk. I had not read these pages before that afternoon. They had been written in 1938, at the end of another world. -- -- Craig Kaczorowski