But life is long. And it is the long run that balances the short flare of interest and passion.
Death may whiten in sun or out of it.
No, I won't try to escape myself by losing myself in artificial chatter 'Did you have a nice vacation?' 'Oh, yes, and you?' I'll stay here and try to pin that loneliness down.
The artist's life nourishes itself on the particular, the concrete.
Good to know that if I ever need attention all I have to do is die.
Apparently, the most difficult feat for a Cambridge male is to accept a woman not merely as feeling, not merely as thinking, but as managing a complex, vital interweaving of both.