Some Tiny Creature, Mad With Wrath, Is

Explaining Something Makes It Go Away, So To Speak; What's Important Is Left After You Have Explained Everything Else.

Neither Mine Nor Other People's Prospects Seem Particularly Pleasing Just At The Moment, And I Have Fantasies Of Going To Iceland, Never To Return. As It Is, I Tell Myself Not To Remember The Past, Not To Hope Or Fear For The Future, And Not To Think In The Present, A Comprehensive Program That Will Undoubtedly Have Very Little Success.

Such Excess Of Passion Is Quite Out Of Fashion

It's Well We Cannot Hear The Screams We Make In Other People's Dreams.

If You're Doing Nonsense It Has To Be Rather Awful, Because There'd Be No Point.