“I write the word solitude on my wall and then below it: Do you know me at all? Are my words just air? Is my heart easy to spare?”

“Writing without words? Its not easy, I tell you! I stab the pen into my heart and let the blood flow. No more ink, no more words, no more b.s. Just me.”

“Do not write. I am sad, and want my light put out.Summers in your absence are as dark as a room.I have closed my arms again. They must do without.To knock at my heart is like knocking at a tomb. Do not write!Do not write. Let us learn to die, as best we may.Did I love you? Ask God. Ask yourself. Do you know?To hear that you love me, when you are far away,Is like hearing from heaven and never to go. Do not write!Do not write. I fear you. I fear to remember,For memory holds the voice I have often heard.To the one who cannot drink, do not show water,The beloved one's picture in the handwritten word. Do not write!Do not write those gentle words that I dare not see,It seems that your voice is spreading them on my heart,Across your smile, on fire, they appear to me,It seems that a kiss is printing them on my heart. Do not write!”

“I know some words floated through my ears, but my mind refused to absorb their meaning. I just shook my head slowly as the wall of pain washed over me, leaving me submerged and broken in the flood.”

“Please take your time. I want you to kill me slowly so I can write my lastpoem to my wife's heart. They laughed, and took from meonly the words dedicated to my wife's heart.”

“He shakes me."Say my name.""No.""Damn it,would you just cooperate?""I do not know that word,'cooperate.'""Obviously,"he growls."I think you make up words.""I do not make up words.""Do,too.""Do not.""Too.""Not."I laugh"Woman you make me crazed,"he mutters.We do this often.Get into childish arguments.He is stubborn,my beast.”