What we have seen and grasped, these we leave behind; whereas what we have not seen and grasped, these we carry away.

Writers need to hide in bourgeois life like ticks need to hide in animal’s fur: the deeper they’re buried the better.

 

           

The assumption, however, that stupidity is not a simple quality, such as weight or impenetrability were once thought to be, but an effect of complex inhibitions is a long stride in a hopeful direction. The most leaden-witted blockhead thereby becomes and object of interest.

I do not believe in every man giving concerts and printing his sin.

 

 

Hale to you / Bad little boy / Lying / In bound beauty / Of only a broken leg

untidy / disarranged / with feathers missing / lethargic / heavy wings / to support the intent head / the yellow beak / the gut demanding food / talons that grip / tear to shreds like judges

 

 

One could see daylight between his bones but nothing in his eyes.

Your projectile nose / Has meddled in the more serious business / Of the battle-field / With the same incautious aloofness / Of intense occupation / That it snuffles the trail of the female / And the comfortable / Passing odors of love

 

 

No simple maiden from a foreign land will show the locals how to bind their flowers in better garlands than before, and no strange traveler will tell romantic and disturbing tales of a blue flower far away, or with trembling hands demonstrate new ways of doing things.

Each person is an asking, a peculiar kind of hole asking some very definite energy from Janey.

 

 

It was not a question of the life of a person, but of life in general. The debate rose and fell. Each added his bit and words were thrown about recklessly. Nothing was arrived at.

The food of the city’s gutters shall be thy food, / The sewers of the city shall be thy drink. / The shadow of the wall shall be thy station, / The threshold shall by thy habitation, / The besotted and the thirsty shall smite thy cheek!