Under the seams runs the pain.
Each night about this time he puts on sadness like a garment and goes on writing.
Philosophy - hopeless. Yet it gives me hope.
To be running breathlessly, but not yet arrived, is itself delightful, a suspended moment of living hope.
I don't know that we really think any thoughts; we think connections between thoughts. That's where the mind moves, that's what's new, and the thoughts themselves have probably been there in my head or lots of other people's heads for a long time.
We are only midway through the central verse of our youth when we see ourselves begin to blacken. ... We had been seduced into thinking that we were immortal and suddenly the affair is over.