We Are Homesick Most For The Places

Her Face Felt Like It Was Scattered In Pieces And She Could Not Keep It Straight. The Feeling Was A Whole Lot Worse Than Being Hungry For Any Dinner, Yet It Was Like That. I Want--i Want--i Want--was All That She Could Think About--but Just What This Real Want Was She Did No Know.

There Are All These People Here I Don't Know By Sight Or By Name. And We Pass Alongside Each Other And Don't Have Any Connection. And They Don't Know Me And I Don't Know Them. And Now I'm Leaving Town And There Are All These People I Will Never Know.

I Live With The People I Create And It Has Always Made My Essential Loneliness Less Keen.

I Was Like A Cat Always Climbing The Wrong Tree.

Resentment Is The Most Precious Flower Of Poverty.