DIANA TAKES A MIDNIGHT DRIVE Some people apparently understand how to be unhappy gracefully, as if it were a kind of fine art.

I don't.

It seems too bad to be true that I should be unhappy, and as if I must wake up to find that it was only a bad dream.
I suppose I've been spoiled a good deal all my life.

Everybody has been kind to me, and tried to do things for my pleasure, just as I have for them; and I have taken things for granted--except, of course, with Lisa.
But Lisa is different--different from everyone else in the world.

I have never expected anything from her, as I have from others.