One Has No Talent. I Have No

It Is The Same In Life: Sometimes It Is More Difficult To Make A Scene Than To Die.

Lies Had Deserted Me, And I Felt As Lonely As Though They Had Been My Only Friends.

Would The World Be In The Mess It Is If We Were Loyal To Love And Not To Countries?

To Comfort Me Is Like The Wrong Memory At The Wrong Place Or Time: If One Is Lonely One Prefers Discomfort.

You Cannot Control What You Love--you Watch It Driving Recklessly Towards The Broken Bridge, The Torn-up Track, The Horror Of Seventy Years Ahead.