It becomes still more difficult to findโจWords at once true and kind,โจOr not untrue and not unkind.
And the case of butterflies so rich it looks As if all summer settled there and died.
I think we got much better poetry when it was all regarded as sinful or subversive, and you had to hide it under the cushion when somebody came in.
Dear, I can't write, it's all a fantasy: a kind of circling obsession.
They say eyes clear with age.
Sex means nothing--just the moment of ecstasy, that flares and dies in minutes.