There is no shelter in you anywhere.

Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely.

Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind; Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave. I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

There are a hundred places where I fear To go, --so with his memory they brim! And entering with relief some quiet place Where never fell his foot or shone his face I say, 'There is no memory of him here!' And so stand stricken, so remembering him!

The longest absence is less perilous to love than the terrible trials of incessant proximity.

I dread no more the first white in my hair, Or even age itself, the easy shoe, The cane, the wrinkled hands, the special chair: Time, doing this to me, may alter too My anguish, into something I can bear

Oh, you mean I'm a homosexual! Of course I am, and heterosexual too, but what's that got to do with my headache?