I am poor - obscure - just eighteen years of age - with a rapacious appetite for everything and principles as light as my purse.

Can one do nothing for the dead? And for a long time the answer had been - Nothing!

What I feel for you can’t be conveyed in phrasal combinations; It either screams out loud or stays painfully silent but I promise — it beats words. It beats worlds. I promise

Yes, my mother's death is a terrible sorrow to me. I feel - do you know what I mean - the silence of it so. She was more alive than anyone I have ever known.

Wind moving through grass so that the grass quivers. This moves me with an emotion I don't even understand.

we cling to our last pleasures as the tree clings to its last leaves.

I love the night. I love to feel the tide of darkness rising, slowly and slowly washing, turning over and over, lifting, floating, all that lies strewn upon the dark beach, all that lies hid in rocky hollows.