I like spaghetti because you don't have to take your eyes off the book to pick about among it, it's all the same.

The way the moon dashes through clouds that blow Loosely as cannon-smoke... Is a reminder of the strength and pain Of being young; that it can't come again, But is for others undiminished somewhere.

So many things I had thought forgotten Return to my mind with stranger pain: Like letters that arrive addressed to someone Who left the house so many years ago.

In everyone there sleeps. A sense of life lived according to love. To some it means the difference they could make. By loving others, but across most it sweeps. As all they might have done had they been loved. That nothing cures.

Originality is being different from oneself, not others.

Home is so sad. It stays as it was left, / Shaped to the comfort of the last to go / As if to win them back

The only way to eliminate unemployment is to eliminate unemployment benefits.