The man has a theory. The woman has hipbones. Here comes Death.

Give me a world, you have taken the world I was.

Consider incompleteness as a verb.

All myth is an enriched pattern, a two-faced proposition, allowing its operator to say one thing and mean another, to lead a double life. Hence the notion found early in ancient thought that all poets are liars. And from the true lies of poetry trickled out a question. What really connects words and things?

No one will ever make necessity not happen.

I was more worn out with the "Odyssey" than it was with the "Iliad." I mean, just comparing those two - you can see how it's changing, how the language of the "Iliad" is somehow monstrously new - and that language of the "Odyssey" is more comfortable, even for us.

The man has a theory. The woman has hipbones. Here comes Death.