I used to pray to recover you.

Sunday-the doctor's paradise! Doctors at country clubs, doctors at the seaside, doctors with mistresses, doctors with wives, doctors in church, doctors in yachts, doctors everywhere resolutely being people, not doctors.

That afternoon my mother had brought me the roses. "Save them for my funeral," I'd said.

I never feel so much myself as when I'm in a hot bath.

..I fancied you'd return the way you said, But I grow old and I forget your name. (I think I made you up inside my head.) I should have loved a thunderbird instead; At least when spring comes they roar back again. I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead. (I think I made you up inside my head.)

I must get my soul back from you; I am killing my flesh without it.

So I kiss him, and there is the great dark sea ahead.