You love me so much, you want to put me in your pocket. And I should die there smothered.
I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself
Give up bearing children and bear hope and love and devotion to those already born.
Nobody can have the soul of me. My mother has had, and nobody can have it again. Nobody can come into my very self again, and breathe me like an atmosphere.
The fairest thing in nature, a flower, still has its roots in earth and manure.
For my part, I prefer my heart to be broken. It is so lovely, dawn-kaleidoscopic within the crack.