Doing all the little tricky things it takes to grow up, step by step, into an anxious and unsettling world.
Compared with me, a tree is immortal.
The box is only temporary.
The sun gives you ulcers, the wind gives you T.B. Once you were beautiful.
I like people too much or not at all. I've got to go down deep, to fall into people, to really know them.
If I rest, if I think inward, I go mad.