Roaring dreams take place in a perfectly silent mind. Now that we know this, throw the raft away.

Swinging on delicate hinges the autumn leaf almost off the stem.

And what does the rain say at night in a small town, what does the rain have to say? Who walks beneath dripping melancholy branches listening to the rain? Who is there in the rain’s million-needled blurring splash, listening to the grave music of the rain at night, September rain, September rain, so dark and soft? Who is there listening to steady level roaring rain all around, brooding and listening and waiting, in the rain-washed, rain-twinkled dark of night?

My shoes are clean from walking in the rain.

It made me think that everything was about to arrive - the moment when you know all and everything is decided forever.

She spoke of evenings in the country making popcorn on the porch. Once this would have gladdened my heart but because her heart was not glad when she said it I knew there was nothing in it but the idea of what one should do.

The only truth is music.