Song, Like A Wing, Tears

Because Language Is The Carrier Of Ideas, It Is Easy To Believe That It Should Be Very Little Else Than Such A Carrier.

I'll Lie Here And Learn How, Over Their Ground, Trees Make A Long Shadow And A Light Sound.

The Women Rest Their Tired Half-healed Hearts; They Are Almost Well.

Once Form Has Been Smashed, It Has Been Smashed For Good, And Once A Forbidden Subject Has Been Released, It Has Been Released For Good.

A Thousand Kindnesses Do Not Make Up For A Thousand Blows.