On me your voice falls as they say love should, Like an enormous yes.

I can't understand these chaps who go round American universities explaining how they write poems: It's like going round explaining how you sleep with your wife.

Everyone should be forcibly transplanted to another continent from their family at the age of three.

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

Saki says that youth is like hors d'oeuvres: you are so busy thinking of the next courses you don't notice it. When you've had them, you wish you'd had more hors d'oeuvres.

Death: the anaesthetic from which none come round.

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.