The Trouble Is That No Devastating Or

When You Don't Know What You're Living For, You Don't Care How You Live From One Day To The Next. You're Happy The Day Has Passed And The Night Has Come, And In Your Sleep You Bury The Tedious Question Of What You Lived For That Day And What You're Going To Live For Tomorrow.

It Is A Trick Among The Dishonest To Offer Sacrifices That Are Not Needed, Or Not Possible, To Avoid Making Those That Are Required.

Memories Are The Height Of Poetry Only When They Are Memories Of Happiness. When They Graze Wounds Over Which Scars Have Formed They Become An Aching Pain.

The Trouble Is That No Devastating Or Redeeming Fires Have Ever Burnt In My Life.... My Life Began By Flickering Out.

Yesterday One Has Wished, To-day One Attains The Madly Longed-for Object, And To-morrow One Will Blush To Think That One Ever Desired It.