I thought how strange it had never occurred to me before that I was only purely happy until I was nine years old.

There is a certain unique and strange delight about walking down an empty street alone.

Miracles occur, If you dare to call those spasmodic Tricks of radiance miracles. The wait's begun again, The long wait for the angel, For that rare, random descent.

She stared at her reflection in the glossed shop windows as if to make sure, moment by moment, that she continued to exist.

And the danger is that in this move toward new horizons and far directions, that I may lose what I have now, and not find anything except loneliness

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my eyes and all is born again.

Worse even than your maddening song, your silence.