The Earth Is Heavy And Opaque Without

To Write At The Same Temperature At Which I Live I Should Write Nothing But Poetry.

Good Things Happen To Those Who Hustle.

He Was Jealous Of Her Future, And She Of His Past.

The Unknown Was My Compass. The Unknown Was My Encyclopedia. The Unnamed Was My Science And Progress.

Not Afraid Of Poverty And Drabness And Who Is Untouched By It, Untouched By The Drunkenness Of Her Friends; (she) Who Judges, Selects, Discards People With Severity, Who Knows, When She Is Telling Her Endless Anecdotes, That They Are Ways Of Escape, Keeping Herself All The More Secret Behind That Profuse Talk.