I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in life.

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

Let me sit in a flowerpot, The spiders won't notice. My heart is a stopped geranium.

I find that in a novel I can get more of life, perhaps not such intense life, but certainly more of life than in poetry.

Antoine St. Exupery once mourned the loss of a man and the secret treasures that he held inside him. I loved Exupery; I will read him again, and he will talk to me, not being dead, or gone. Is that life after death — mind living on paper and flesh living in offspring? Maybe. I do not know.

Joy:show joy & enjoy: then others will be joyful.

When I fell out of the light, I entered The stomach of indifference, the wordless cupboard.