Cannibals Prefer Those Who Have No Spines.

We Are Like Snails, Each Stuck To His Own Leaf.

What Gave You This Idea Of An Imperfect God?' 'i Don't Know. It Seems Quite Feasible To Me. That Is The Only God I Could Imagine Believing In, A God Whose Passion Is Not A Redemption, Who Saves Nothing, Fulfills No Purpose--a God Who Simply Is.

We Didn't Know Each Other Well. I Never Had The Time. Now I See That It Doesn't Make Any Difference. The Ones Who Hurry And The Ones Who Take Their Time All End Up In The Same Place. Just Don't Have Any Regrets. No Regrets.

I See A Poem As A Multi-coloured Strip Behind Peeling Plaster, In Separate, Shining Fragments.

Cancel Me Not - For What Then Shall Remain? Abscissas, Some Mantissas, Modules, Modes, A Root Or Two, A Torus And A Node: The Inverse Of My Verse, A Null Domain.