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.

One of the quainter quirks of life is that we shall never know who dies on the dame day as we do ourselves.

One of the great criticisms of poets of the past is that they said one thing and did another.

Most things may never happen: this one will.

I feel the only thing you can do about life is to preserve it, by art if you're an artist, by children if you're not.

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

What will survive of us is love.