Methinks the human method of expression by sound of tongue is very elementary, and ought to be substituted for some ingenious invention which should be able to give vent to at least six coherent sentences at once.

The waves broke and spread their waters swiftly over the shore. One after another they massed themselves and fell; the spray tossed itself back with the energy of their fall. The waves were steeped deep-blue save for a pattern of diamond-pointed light on their backs which rippled as the backs of great horses ripple with muscles as they move. The waves fell; withdrew and fell again, like the thud of a great beast stamping.

I’m not clear enough in the head to feel anything but varieties of dull anger and arrows of sadness.

That great Cathedral space which was childhood.

Humor is the first of the gifts to perish in a foreign tongue.

Words belong to each other.

I am volatile for one, rigid for another, angular as an icicle in silver, or voluptuous as a candle flame in gold.