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

We should be careful / Of each other, we should be kind / While there is still time.

In everyone there sleeps a sense of life lived according to love.

I have a sense of melancholy isolation, life rapidly vanishing, all the usual things. It's very strange how often strong feelings don't seem to carry any message of action

Now, helpless in the hollow of An unarmorial age, a trough Of smoke in slow suspended skeins Above their scrap of history, Only an attitude remains: Time has transfigured them into Untruth. The stone finality They hardly meant has come to be Their final blazon, and to prove Our almost-instinct almost true: What will survive of us is love.

All the unhurried day / Your mind lay open like a drawer of knives.

He married a woman to stop her getting away Now she's there all day.