It bothered me that whatever was waiting wasn't waiting for me
In your efforts to dazzle us your reasoning has gone awry. You know very well that love is, above all, the gift of oneself.
We poison our lives with fear of burglary and shipwreck, and, ask anyone, the house is never burgled, and the ship never goes down.
Nothing is irreparable in politics.
A happy love is full of quarrels, you know.
Inspiration is a farce that poets have invented to give themselves importance.