It's Better To Be Born Lucky Than

How Ravished One Could Be Without Ever Being Touched. Ravished By Dead Words Become Obscene And Dead Ideas Become Obsessions.

All Hopes Of Eternity And All Gain From The Past He Would Have Given To Have Her There, To Be Wrapped Warm With Him In One Blanket, And Sleep, Only Sleep. It Seemed The Sleep With The Woman In His Arms Was The Only Necessity.

Tragedy Looks To Me Like Man In Love With His Own Defeat. Which Is Only A Sloppy Way Of Being In Love With Yourself.

The Dead Don't Die. They Look On And Help.

There Is No Evolving, Only Unfolding. The Lily Is In The Bit Of Dust Which Is Its Beginning, Lily And Nothing But Lily: And The Lily In Blossom Is A Ne Plus Ultra: There Is No Evolving Beyond.