Those who preach god, need god Those who preach peace do not have peace Those who preach love do not have love
I'll use the knives for spreading jam, and the gas to warm my greying love.
Most people are not ready for death, theirs or anybody elses.
I feel strangely normal.
too often, the only escape is sleep
Bad luck for the young poet would be a rich father, an early marriage, an early success or the ability to do anything well.