Fulfillment is often more trouble than it is worth.

I dream of vague shapes that hint of my heart's desire.

When disaster waves, I try not to wave back.

Money comes to life as it is spent.

Posterity--the forlorn child of nineteenth century optimism--grows ever harder to conceive.

To avoid tripping on the chain of the past, you have to pick it up and wind it about you.

Abyss-mongering makes professors and poets feel daring.