It Was As Though Our Love Were

Politics, War, Marriage, Crime, Adultery. Everything That Exists In The World Has Something To Do With Money.

As Long As One Suffers One Lives.

O God, You've Done Enough, You've Robbed Me Of Enough, I'm Too Tired And Old To Learn To Love, Leave Me Alone For Ever.

So Much In Writing Depends On The Superficiality Of One's Days.

It's A Strange Thing To Discover And To Believe That You Are Loved When You Know That There Is Nothing In You For Anybody But A Parent Or A God To Love.