Your heart's desire is to be told some mystery. The mystery is that there is no mystery.
Creedless shells of men tottering down the causeways like migrants in a feverland.
At one time in the world there were woods that no one owned
The freedom of birds is an insult to me.
She was gone and the coldness of it was her final gift.
I can normally tell how intelligent a man is by how stupid he thinks I am.