Love, I find, is like singing. Everyone can do enough to satisfy themselves, though it may not impress the neighbors as being very much

There are years that ask questions and years that answer.

There is something about poverty that smells like death

The present was an egg laid by the past that had the future inside its shell

Sometimes, I feel discriminated against, but it does not make me angry. It merely astonishes me. How can any deny themselves the pleasure of my company? It's beyond me