Beauty Plus Pity-that Is The Closest We

We Hasten To Alienate The Very Fates We Intended To Woo.

I Have Rewritten — Often Several Times — Every Word I Have Ever Published. My Pencils Outlast Their Erasers.

Literature And Butterflies Are The Two Sweetest Passions Known To Man.

The Fire You Rubbed Left Its Brand On The Most Vulnerable, Most Vicious And Tender Point Of My Body. Now I Have To Pay For Your Rasping The Red Rash Too Strongly, Too Soon, As Charred Wood Has To Pay For Burning. When I Remain Without Your Caresses, I Lose All Control Of My Nerves, Nothing Exists Any More Than The Ecstasy Of Friction, The Abiding Effect Of Your Sting, Of Your Delicious Poison.

Only Talent Interests Me In Paintings And Books. Not General Ideas, But The Individual Contribution.