Memories Should Be Sharp When One Has

I Can't Read Or Sleep. Without Hope Or Youth Or Money I Sit Constantly Wishing I Were Dead.

I Suppose All We Can Really Share With People Is A Taste For The Same Kinds Of Weather.

It Seemed To Alabama That, Reaching Her Goal, She Would Drive The Devils That Had Driven Her - That, In Proving Herself, She Would Achieve That Peace Which She Imagined Went Only In Surety Of One’s Self - That She Would Be Able, Through The Medium Of The Dance, To Command Her Emotions, To Summon Love Or Pity Or Happiness At Will, Having Provided A Channel Through Which They Might Flow. She Drove Herself Mercilessly, And The Summer Dragged On.

Youth Doesn't Need Friends -- It Only Needs Crowds.

Love Is Bitter And All There Is, And That The Rest Is For The Emotional Beggars Of The Earth.