I am the wilderness lost in man..

Why break the heart that never beat from love?.

This tower, patched unevenly with black ivy, arose like a mutilated finger from among the fists of knuckled masonry and pointed blasphemously at heav….

The crumbling castle, looming among the mists, exhaled the season, and every cold stone breathed it out. The tortured trees by the dark lake burned a….

The sun sank with a sob and darkness waded in from all horizons so that the sky contracted and there was no more light left in the world, when, at th….

There is a brotherhood among the kindly- Closer and defter and more integral- Than any of aisle or coven- For love rang out before the chapel bell.

Countless candles dribbled with hot wax, and their flames, like little flags, fluttered in the unchartered currents of air. Thousands of lamps, naked….

Lingering is so very lonely when one lingers all alone..

For death is life. It is only living that is lifeless..

As I see it, life is an effort to grip before they slip through one's fingers and slide into oblivion, the startling, the ghastly or the blindingly e….

His was not the hatred that arises suddenly like a storm and as suddenly abates. It was, once the initial shock of anger and pain was over, a calcula….

We are all imprisoned by the dictionary. We choose out of that vast, paper-walled prison our convicts, the little black printed words, when in truth ….

There are times when the air that floats between mortals becomes, in its stillness and silence, as cruel as the edge of a scythe..

Each day I live in a glass room unless I break it with the thrusting of my senses and pass through the splintered walls to the great landscape..

Yet not with all of me am I in love. Too much of my own quietness is with me..

Life is too fleet for onomatopoeia..

What is Time... That you speak of it so subserviently? Are we to be the slaves of the sun, that second-hand, overrated knob of gilt, or of his sister….

Mount and begone. The world awaits you..

He saw in happiness the seeds of independence, and in independence the seeds of revolt..

There is a kind of laughter that sickens the soul. Laughter when it is out of control: when it screams and stamps its feet, and sets the bells jangli….

To live at all is miracle enough..