Were it not for love, Poor life would be a ship not worth launching.

I don't say what God is, but a name That somehow answers us when we are driven To feel and think how little we have to do With what we are.

This morning I deleted the hyphen from hell-bound and made it one word; this afternoon I redivided it and restored the hyphen.

He knows much of what men paint themselves would blister in the light of what they are.

Are we no greater than the noise we make Along one blind atomic pilgrimage Whereon by crass chance billeted we go Because our brains and bones and cartilage Will have it so?

The typical entrepreneur is no longer the bold and tireless man of Marshall, or the sly and rapacious Moneybags of Marx, but a mass of inert shareholders, indistinguishable from rentiers, who employ salaried managers to run their concerns.

For when a woman is left too much alone, sooner or later she begins to think;- And no man knows what then she may discover.

To some will come a time when change itself is beauty, if not heaven.

It is impossible to understand the economic system in which we are living if we try to interpret it as a rational scheme.It has to be understood as an awkward phase in a continuing process of historical development.

She knows as well as anyone that pity, having played, soon tires.

I have been reading the Old Testament, a most bloodthirsty and perilous book for the young. Jehovah is beyond doubt the worst character in fiction.

And thus we all are nighing The truth we fear to know: Death will end our crying For friends that come and go.

Who knows to-day from yesterday
May learn to count no thing too strange:
Love builds of what Time takes away,
Till Death itself is less than Change.

Shake the tree of life itself and bring down fruits unheard of.

Seizing the swift logic of a woman,

Curse God and die.

No matter what we are, and what we sing, Time finds a withered leaf in every laurel.

Language that tells us, through a more or less emotional reaction,

something that can not be said.

Love must have wings to fly away from love, And to fly back again.

I shall have more to say when I am dead.

For when a woman is left too much alone, sooner or later she begins to think; and no man knows what then she may discover.