It Is Such A Secret Place, The

What Was My Body To Me? A Kind Of Flunkey In My Service. Let But My Anger Wax Hot, My Love Grow Exalted, My Hatred Collect In Me, And That Boasted Solidarity Between Me And My Body Was Gone.

It's Hard Luck Always Having To Be A Judge.

We Are Prudent People. We Are Afraid To Let Go Of Our Petty Reality In Order To Grasp At A Great Shadow.

Of Course, I Love You,' The Flower Said To Him. 'if You Were Not Aware Of It, It Was My Fault.

When You Give Yourself, You Receive More Than You Give.