Then I went back into the house and wrote, It is midnight. The rain is beating on the windows. It was not midnight. It was not raining.

Better hope deferred than none.

Abode where lost bodies roam each searching for its lost one.

There is at least this to be said for mind, that it can dispel mind.

Don't touch me! Don't question me! Don't speak to me! Stay with me!

You cried for night - it falls. Now cry in darkness.

How do you manage it, she said, at your age? I told her I'd been saving up for her all my life.