A Grave Is Such A Quiet Place.

It's Not True That Life Is One Damn Thing After Another; It Is One Damn Thing Over And Over.

I Love Humanity But I Hate People.

The First Rose On My Rose-tree Budded, Bloomed, And Shattered, During Sad Days When To Me Nothing Mattered. Grief Or Grief Has Drained Me Clean; Still It Seems A Pity No One Saw,—it Must Have Been Very Pretty.

And Must I Then, Indeed, Pain, Live With You All Through My Life?-sharing My Fire, My Bed, Sharing-oh, Worst Of All Things!-the Same Head?- And, When I Feed Myself, Feeding You Too?

Man Has Never Been The Same Since God Died.