To annihilate the world by annihilation of oneself is the deluded height of desperate egoism.

Piece by piece, I fed my wardrobe to the night wind, and flutteringly, like a loved one’s ashes, the gray scraps were ferried off, to settle here, there, exactly where I would never know, in the dark heart of New York.

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

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

I laid my face to the smooth face of the marble and howled my loss into the cold salt rain.

As from a star I saw, coldly and soberly, the separateness of everything. I felt the wall of my skin; I am I. That stone is a stone. My beautiful fusion with the things of this world was over.

Dancing is the normal prelude to intercourse.