Have All Beautiful Things Sad Destinies?

I Sit At My Window And The Words Fly Past Me Like Birds — With God's Help I Catch Some.

Sometimes The Earth Trembles; Sometimes You Can Feel It Breathe.

Love Was A Terrible Thing. You Poisoned It And Stabbed At It And Knocked It Down Into The Mud - Well Down - And It Got Up And Staggered On, Bleeding And Muddy And Awful. Like - Like Rasputin.

The Musty Smell, The Bugs, The Lonliness, This Room, Which Is Part Of The Street Outside-this Is All I Want From Life.

I Found When I Was A Child That If I Put The Hurt Into Words, It Would Go.