We all are born mad. Some remain so.

An imaginative adventure does not enjoy the same corsets as reportage.

Be again, be again. (Pause.) All that old misery. (Pause.) Once wasn't enough for you.

The new light above my table is a great improvement. With all this darkness around me I feel less alone. (Pause.) In a way. (Pause.) I love to get up and move about in it, then back here to... (hesitates) ...me. (Pause.)

We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries. But habit is a great deadener.

What do we do now, now that we are happy?

Poets are the sense, philosophers­­ the intelligence­­ of humanity.