It takes a long time for words to become thought.
Without anxiety life would have very little savor.
I feel like an inadequate machine, a machine that breaks down at crucial moments, grinds to a dreadful hault, 'won't go,' or, even worse, explodes in some innocent person's face.
We are all jellyfish, too pitiful and too afraid of being disliked to be honest.
Light is snow sifted / To an abstraction.
In the novel or the journal you get the journey. In a poem you get the arrival.