In order to arrive at what you are not, you must go through the way in which you are not.

For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith, But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.

I am aware of the damp souls of housemaids Sprouting despondently at area gates.

We must learn to suffer more.

My life is light, waiting for the death wind, Like a feather on the back of my hand.

Let's not be narrow, nasty, and negative.

The destination cannot be described; / You will know very little until you get there; / You will journey blind.