What can any of us do with his talent but try to develop his vision, so that through frequent failures we may learn better what we have missed in the past.
Sun benches at the curb bespeak another season, truncated poplars that having served for shade served also later for the fire.
Time is a storm in which we are all lost.
I think all writing is a disease. You can't stop it.
For the beginning is assuredly the end- since we know nothing, pure and simple, beyond our own complexities.
The business of love is cruelty which, by our wills, we transform to live together.