Lingering is so very lonely when one lingers all alone.

Cold love’s the loveliest love of all. So clear, so crisp, so empty. In short, so civilized.

Each day I live in a glass room unless I break it with the thrusting of my senses and pass through the splintered walls to the great landscape.

The Earth swirls down through the ominous moons of preconsidered generations.

It was not certain what significance the ceremony held... but the formality was no less sacred for it being unintelligible

Lingering is so very lonely when one lingers all alone.

Through her, in microcosm, the wide earth sobbed. The starglobe sank in her; the colours faded. The death-dew rose and the wild birds in her breast climbed to her throat and gathered songless, hovering, all tumult, wing to wing, so ardent for those climes where all things end.