Now the standard cure for one who is sunk is to consider those in actual destitution or physical suffering—this is an all-weather beatitude for gloom in general and fairly salutary day-time advice for everyone. But at three o’clock in the morning, a forgotten package has the same tragic importance as a death sentence, and the cure doesn’t work—and in a real dark night of the soul it is always three o’clock in the morning, day after day.

One thin's sure and nothing's surer The rich get richer and the poor get - children. In the meantime, In between time...

A squalid phantasmagoria of breath

A big man has no time really to do anything but just sit and be big.

Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you

You are mysterious, I love you. You’re beautiful, intelligent, and virtuous, and that’s the rarest known combination.

So he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning-fork that had been struck upon a star.