Death is the mother of beauty. Only the perishable can be beautiful, which is why we are unmoved by artificial flowers.
Throw away the light, the definitions, and say what you see in the dark.
The poet makes silk dresses out of worms.
I certainly do not exist from nine to six, when I am at the office.
Unfortunately there is nothing more inane than an Easter carol. It is a religious perversion of the activity of Spring in our blood.
A violent order is disorder; and a great disorder is an order. These two things are one.