Irony Is The Glory Of Slaves.

Yet Falling In Love Is Not The Same As Being Able To Love.

There Was A Time When Only Wise Books Were Read Helping Us To Bear Our Pain And Misery. This, After All, Is Not Quite The Same As Leafing Through A Thousand Works Fresh From Psychiatric Clinics. And Yet The World Is Different From What It Seems To Be And We Are Other Than How We See Ourselves In Our Ravings.

Not That I Want To Be A God Or A Hero. Just To Change Into A Tree, Grow For Ages, Not Hurt Anyone.

The History Of My Stupidity Would Fill Many Volumes.

The Purpose Of Poetry Is To Remind Us / How Difficult It Is To Remain Just One Person.