A Thing Is Not Necessarily

What I Needed Most Was To Love And To Be Loved, Eager To Be Caught. Happily I Wrapped Those Painful Bonds Around Me; And Sure Enough, I Would Be Lashed With The Red-hot Pokers Or Jealousy, By Suspicions And Fear, By Burst Of Anger And Quarrels.

I Have Learnt To Love You Late, Beauty At Once So Ancient And So New!

They, Then, Who Are Destined To Die, Need Not Be Careful To Inquire What Death They Are To Die, But Into What Place Death Will Usher Them.

Every Day My Conscience Makes Confession Relying On The Hope Of Your Mercy As More To Be Trusted Than Its Own Innocence.

Did My Infancy Succeed Another Age Of Mine That Dies Before It? Was It That Which I Spent Within My Mother's Womb?... And What Before That Life Again, O God Of My Joy, Was I Anywhere Or In Any Body?