Is Not This World An Illusion? And

Nostalgia, The Vice Of The Aged.

Your Thin White Face, Chérie; He Said, As If He Saw It For The First Time. Your Thin White Face, With Its Promise Of Debauchery Only A Connoisseur Could Detect.

I Think It's One Of The Scars In Our Culture That We Have Too High An Opinion Of Ourselves. We Align Ourselves With The Angels Instead Of The Higher Primates.

The Kind Of Power Mothers Have Is Enormous.

Sad; So Sad, Those Smoky-rose, Smoky-mauve Evenings Of Late Autumn, Sad Enough To Pierce The Heart.