Beauty cannot disguise nor music melt A pain undiagnosable but felt.

It is nice to think how one can be recklessly lost in a daisy!

You can’t just write and write and put things in a drawer. They wither without the warm sun of someone else’s appreciation.

The punctuation of anniversaries is terrible, like the closing of doors, one after another between you and what you want to hold on to.

I would like to achieve a state of inner spiritual grace from which I could function and give as I was meant to in the eye of God.

What a crippling art writing is, no body to it, no craft, really. It's all in the mind and you never see it or feel it -- only sometimes hear it. It uses only such a small part of man. I wish I were a sculptor.

For sleep, one needs endless depths of blackness to sink into; daylight is too shallow, it will not cover one.