I Could Not Take Lightly The Idea

In Order To Weep, I Had Descended To The Realm Of The Dead Themselves, To Their Secret Chambers, Led By The Invisible But Soft Hands Of Birds Down Stairways Which Were Folded Up Again As I Advanced. I Displayed My Grief In The Friendly Fields Of Death, Far From Men: Within Myself.

There Is A Close Relationship Between Flowers And Convicts.

The Most Reasonable Man Always Manages, When He Pulls The Trigger, To Become A Dispenser Of Justice.

By Stretching Language We'll Distort It Sufficiently To Wrap Ourselves In It And Hide.

First Of All, Don't Mix Your Hairpins Up With Mine! You .... Oh! All Right, Mix Your Muck With Mine. Mix It! Mix Your Rags With My Tatters! Mix It All Up.