A Grave Is Such A Quiet Place.

I Know, But I Do Not Approve. And I Am Not Resigned.

How Strange A Thing Is Death, Bringing To His Knees, Bringing To His Antlers The Buck In The Snow . . . Life, Looking Out Attentive From The Eyes Of The Doe.

But She Was Not Made For Any Man, And She Will Never Be All Mine.

That Which Has Quelled Me, Lives With Me, Accomplice In Catastrophe.

I Am Not A Tentative Person. Whatever I Do, I Give Up My Whole Self To It.