This Englishwoman Is So Refined,

It Is The Privilege Of The Rich To Waste The Time Of The Poor To Water With Tears In Secret A Tree That Grows In Secret That Bears Fruit In Secret That Ripened Falls To The Ground In Secret And Manures The Parent Tree Oh The Wicked Tree Of Hatred And The Secret The Sap Rising And The Tears Falling.

Oh, No No No, It Was Too Cold Always (still The Dead One Lay Moaning) I Was Much Too Far Out All My Life And Not Waving But Drowning.

I Love Death Because He Breaks The Human Pattern And Frees Us From Pleasures Too Prolonged As Well As From The Pains Of This World. It Is Pleasant, Too, To Remember That Death Lies In Our Hands; He Must Come If We Call Him. ... I Think If There Were No Death, Life Would Be More Than Flesh And Blood Could Bear.

The Sea Was Angry That Day My Friend, Like An Old Man Trying To Send Back Soup At A Deli.

Death's Not A Separation Or Alteration Or Parting; It's Just A One-handled Door.