Do Not Deprive Me Of My Age.

Without Anxiety Life Would Have Very Little Savor.

I Suppose I Envy Painters Because They Can Meditate On Form And Structure, On Color And Light, And Not Concern Themselves With Human Torment And Chaos. It Is Restful Even To Imagine Expression Without Words.

They Are Commiting Murder Who Merely Live.

Words Are My Passion / And Out Of Them And Me / I Would Create Beauty.

Instant Intimacy Was Too Often Followed By Disillusion.