Belief forages, moving from pasture to pasture.

If you have no power, talk about your influence. If you have power, talk about the constraints that hem you in.

Young poets bewail the passing of love; old poets, the passing of time. There is surprisingly little difference.

The Lady: a fluty voice, sensible shoes, a melancholy sense of living by rules few still remember.

Fearful of sentimentality, I disown my tears and melting heart.

Studying the past may suggest new ways of going wrong.

Music dissolves the straight and narrow.