But I Love To Feel Events Overlapping

Every Man Is Made Of Clay And Diamond, And No Woman Can Nourish Both.

It Is Not Peace We Seek But Meaning.

Frost In January Minus 20 For A Week. Dead Birds Frozen On The Branch—they Fall With The First Thaw Like Ripe Fruit—death-ripened. We Shall All End Like Them—just A Stain In The Snow.

The Appalling Thing Is The Degree Of Charity Women Are Capable Of. You See It All The Time... Love Lavished On Absolute Fools. Love's A Charity Ward, You Know.

The Realisation Of One's Own Death Is The Point At Which One Becomes Adult.