“i like my body when it is with yourbody. It is so quite new a thing.Muscles better and nerves more.i like your body. i like what it does,i like its hows. i like to feel the spineof your body and its bones, and the trembling-firm-smooth ness and which i willagain and again and againkiss, i like kissing this and that of you,i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzzof your electric fur, and what-is-it comesover parting flesh ... And eyes big love-crumbs,and possibly i like the thrillof under me you so quite new.”

“I like my body when it is with your body. It is so quite new a thing. Muscles better and nerves more.”

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

“Buffalo Bill's defunct who used to ride a watersmooth-silver stallion and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat Jesus he was a handsome man and what i want to know is how do you like your blueeyed boyMister Death”

“You are tired,(I think)Of the always puzzle of living and doing;And so am I.Come with me, then,And we’ll leave it far and far away—(Only you and I, understand!)You have played,(I think)And broke the toys you were fondest of,And are a little tired now;Tired of things that break, and—Just tired.So am I.But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—Open to me!For I will show you the places Nobody knows,And, if you like,The perfect places of Sleep.Ah, come with me!I’ll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,That floats forever and a day;I’ll sing you the jacinth songOf the probable stars;I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,Until I find the Only Flower,Which shall keep (I think) your little heartWhile the moon comes out of the sea.”

“Like the burlesque comedian, I am abnormally fond of that precision which creates movement.”

“you said Isthere anything whichis dead or alive more beautifulthan my body,to have in your fingers(trembling ever so little)?Looking intoyour eyes Nothing,i said,except theair of spring smelling of never and forever.....and through the lattice which moved asif a hand is touched by ahand(whichmoved as thoughfingers touch a girl'sbreast,lightly)Do you believe in always,the windsaid to the rainI am too busy withmy flowers to believe,the rain answered”