I am quite alone. I am neither happy nor unhappy; I lie suspended like a hair or a feather in the cloudy mixtures of memory.

These are the moments which are not calculable, and cannot be assessed in words; they live on in the solution of memory, like wonderful creatures, unique of their own kind, dredged up from the floors of some unexplored ocean.

The steward, according to custom, had stopped all the clocks. This, in the language of Narouz, said "Your stay with us is so brief, let us not be reminded of the flight of the hours."

Shyness has laws you can only give yourself; tragically to those who least understand.

Truth is what most contradicts itself.

Let us define 'man' as a poet perpetually conspiring against himself.

I am just a refugee from the long slow toothache of English life. It is terrible to love life so much you can hardly breathe!