I Believe There Are More Urgent And

My True Friends Have Always Given Me That Supreme Proof Of Devotion, A Spontaneous Aversion For The Man I Loved.

Books, Books, Books. It Was Not That I Read So Much. I Read And Re-read The Same Ones. But All Of Them Were Necessary To Me. Their Presence, Their Smell, The Letters Of Their Titles, And The Texture Of Their Leather Bindings.

I Went To Collect The Few Personal Belongings Which...i Held To Be Invaluable: My Cat, My Resolve To Travel, And My Solitude.

One Keeps Forgetting Old Age Up To The Very Brink Of The Grave.

To A Poet, Silence Is An Acceptable Response, Even A Flattering One.