To Play Safe, I Prefer

Nothing Revives The Past So Completely As A Smell That Was Once Associated With It.

The Tiny Madman In His Padded Cell.

Which Arrow Flies For Ever? The Arrow That Has Hit Its Mark.

Whenever I Start Thinking Of My Love For A Person, I Am In The Habit Of Immediately Drawing Radii From My Love - From My Heart, From The Tender Nucleus Of A Personal Matter- To Monstrously Remote Points Of The Universe. Something Impels Me To Measure The Consciousness Of My Love Against Such Unimaginable And Incalculable Things As The Behaviour Of Nebulae (whose Very Remoteness Seems A Form Of Insanity), The Dreadful Pitfalls Of Eternity, The Unknowledgeable Beyond The Unknown, The Helplessness, The Cold, The Sickening Involutions And Interpenetrations Of Space And Time.

You Lose Your Immortality When You Lose Your Memory.