Hurry up, please, its time.
If you desire to drain to the dregs the fullest cup of scorn and hatred that a fellow human being can pour out for you, let a young mother hear you call dear baby 'it.'
The darkness declares the glory of light.
The communication of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living.
It takes so many years to learn that one is dead.
He is haunted by a demon, a demon against which he feels powerless, because in its first manifestation it has no face, no name, nothing; and the words, the poem he makes, are a kind of exorcism of this demon.