And another day is tucked under my wing.

The Church has lost a great religious poet in me; but I have lost an infinity of fun in the church, so the loss is even.

Love amazes, but it does not surprise.

I wish you could see the two cats drowsing side by side in a Victorian nursing chair, their paws, their ears, their tails complementarily adjusted, their blue eyes blinking open on a single thought of when I shall remember it's their supper time. They might have been composed by Bach for two flutes.

Young people are careless of their virginity; one day they may have it and the next not.

To think of losing is to lose already.

When I die, I hope to think I have annoyed a great many people.