I gulp down my pleasures, chew over my miseries.
I know that I am very much like everybody else, but not really.
Fear regulates. Appetite impels.
The Lady: a fluty voice, sensible shoes, a melancholy sense of living by rules few still remember.
God may be a human creation, but He goes His way, not ours.
The past goes right on pulling me apart, though I can scarcely remember the people or the issues.