Perhaps All Of Life Is No More

Sleep Is Uncanny, I Have Always Found It So, A Nightly Dress-rehearsal For Being Dead.

To Take Possession Of A City Of Which You Are Not A Native You Must First Fall In Love There.

...being Alone With Him Was Like Being In A Room Which Someone Had Just Violently Left

I'm A Hopeless 19th-century Romantic.

The White May Blossom Swooned Slowly Into The Open Mouth Of The Grave.