And the case of butterflies so rich it looks As if all summer settled there and died.

I don't think I write well - just better than anyone else.

The breath that sharpens life is life itself.

I'm terrified of the thought of time passing (or whatever is meant by that phrase) whether I 'do' anything or not. In a way I may believe, deep down, that doing nothing acts as a brake on 'time's - it doesn't of course. It merely adds the torment of having done nothing, when the time comes when it really doesn't matter if you've done anything or not.

Most things may never happen: this one will.

What are days for? Days are where we live. They come, they wake us Time and time over. Theyare to be happy in: Where can we live but days?

Sex means nothing--just the moment of ecstasy, that flares and dies in minutes.