Small Jerks Began To Appear

Love Is Every Bit As Violent And Dangerous As Murder.

In My Solitude, Many Miles From Men And Houses, I Am In A Childishly Happy And Carefree State Of Mind, Which You Are Incapable Of Understanding Unless Someone Explains It To You

A Word Can Be Transformed Into A Coulour, Light, A Smell; It Is The Writer's Task To Use It In Such A Way That It Serves, Never Fails, Can Never Be Ignored.

A Few Days Back Someone Sent Me Two Feathers. Two Bird's Feathers In A Sheet Of Note-paper With A Coronet, And Fastened With A Seal. Sent From A Place A Long Way Off; From One Who Need Not Have Sent Them Back At All. That Amused Me Too, Those Devilish Green Feathers.

I Have Had Much To Learn From Sweden's Poetry And, More Especially, From Her Lyrics Of The Last Generation.