Yet not with all of me am I in love. Too much of my own quietness is with me.
Something to remember, that: cats for missiles.
Why break the heart that never beat from love?
For death is life. It is only living that is lifeless.
It was not certain what significance the ceremony held... but the formality was no less sacred for it being unintelligible
As I see it, life is an effort to grip before they slip through one's fingers and slide into oblivion, the startling, the ghastly or the blindingly exquisite fish of the imagination before they whip away on the endless current and are lost for ever in oblivion's black ocean.