He Was One Of The Most Supremely

If Anything Might Hurt Her, Silence Would; And I Wanted To Hurt Her.

She's Always Looking For Poetry And Passion And Sensitivity, The Whole Romantic Kitchen. I Live On A Rather Simpler Diet.' 'prose And Pudding?''i Don't Expect Attractive Men Necessarily To Have Attractive Souls.

The Practise Of An Art Is Essential To The Whole Man, Not Because Of What Art Is But Because Of What Art Does To The Artist.

The Bowed Head, The Buried Face. She Is Silent, She Will Never Speak, Never Forgive, Never Reach A Hand, Never Leave This Frozen Present Tense. All Waits, Suspended. Suspended The Autumn Trees, The Autumn Sky, Anonymous People. A Blackbird, Poor Fool, Sings Out Of Season From The Willows By The Lake. A Flight Of Pigeons Over The Houses; Fragments Of Freedom, Hazard, An Anagram Made Flesh. And Somewhere The Stinging Smell Of Burning Leaves.

These Last Few Days I've Felt Godless. I've Felt Cleaner, Less Muddled, Less Blind. I Still Believe In A God. But He's So Remote, So Cold, So Mathematical. I See That We Have To Live As If There Is No God. Prayer And Worship And Singing Hymns-all Silly And Useless.