Electricity, water, gas, and steam course through the walls of my building, keeping it alive.

In the great cities, winter glitters with art and feasting. But poetry, the country cousin, sees only the dearth of the fields.

I answered my father's demands for sympathy with silence.

Writing is a refuge from unhappiness, but has its own sorrows.

Every seeming equality conceals a hierarchy.

Curiosity makes loneliness.

Good advice is never as helpful as an interest-free loan.