The Realisation Of One's Own Death Is

To Write A Poem Is Like Trying To Catch A Lizard Without Its Tail Falling Off.

A City Becomes A World When One Loves One Of Its Inhabitants.

We Are All Hunting For Rational Reasons For Believing In The Absurd.

I Am Just A Refugee From The Long Slow Toothache Of English Life. It Is Terrible To Love Life So Much You Can Hardly Breathe!

The Sense Of Truth No Matter How Subjective Is Necessary For The Experience Of Beauty.