“because it'sSpringthingSdare to do people(& notthe other wayround)because it's AprilLives lead their ownpersons(insteadof everybodyelse's)butwhat's whollymarvellous myDarlingis that you &i are more than you& i(because It's we)”

“Humanity i love you because youare perpetually putting the secret oflife in your pants and forgettingit's there and sitting downon itand because you areforever making poems in the lapof death Humanityi hate you”

“Humanity i love youbecause you would rather black the boots ofsuccess than enquire whose soul dangles from hiswatch-chain which would be embarrassing for bothparties and because you unflinchingly applaud allsongs containing the words country home andmother when sung at the old howardHumanity i love you becausewhen you're hard up you pawn yourintelligence to buy a drink and whenyou're flush pride keeps you from the pawn shops andbecause you are continually committingnuisances but moreespecially in your own houseHumanity i love you because you are perpetually putting the secret oflife in your pants and forgettingit's there and sitting downon itand because you are forever making poems in the lapof death Humanityi hate you”

“Humanity I love you because when you're hard up you pawn your intelligence to buy a drink.”

“I love you much most beautiful darling more than anyone on the earth and I like you better than everything in the sky.”

“somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyondany experience, your eyes have their silence:in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,or which i cannot touch because they are too nearyour slightest look easily will unclose methough i have closed myself as fingers,you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens(touching skilfully, mysteriously) her first roseor if your wish be to close me, i andmy life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,as when the heart of this flower imaginesthe snow carefully everywhere descending;nothing which we are to perceive in this world equalsthe power of your intense fragility: whose texturecompels me with the colour of its countries,rendering death and forever with each breathing(i do not know what it is about you that closesand opens; only something in me understandsthe voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands”

“For whatever we lose (like a you or a me),It's always our self we find in the sea.”