The Victor Belongs To The Spoils.

When The Lightning Strikes One Of Us, It Strikes Both

I May Turn Out An Intellectual, But I'll Never Write Anything But Mediocre Poetry.

Once We Were One Person, And Always It Will Be A Little That Way.

At Any Rate, Let Us Love For A While, For A Year Or So, You And Me. That's A Form Of Divine Drunkenness That We Can All Try. There Are Only Diamonds In The Whole World, Diamonds And Perhaps The Shabby Gift Of Disillusion.

There Was Not A Moving Up Into Vacated Places; There Was Simply An Anachronistic Staying On Between A Vanishing Past And An Incalculable Future.