The unendurable is the beginning of the curve of joy.
We are but skin about a wind, with muscles clenched against mortality.
Dreams have only the pigmentation of fact.
I couldn't ever boil potatoes over the heat of your affection. Your love would never bridge a gap; it wouldn't even fill up the hole that the mice came through.
I have been loved,' she said, 'by something strange, and it has forgotten me.
New York is the meeting place of the peoples, the only city where you can hardly find a typical American.