“He would sit very still on the doorstepAnd dream--O, that he had a friend!Somebody to come when he called them,Somebody to catch by the hand,Somebody to sleep with at night time,Somebody who'd quite understand.”
“He stood quite still, freezing, and somebody somewhere owed him infinite love.”
“How many times has that happened? I find myself wondering. How many times have I sat, waiting, while he catches up with somebody else, somebody more important?”
“If a poet is anybody, he is somebody to whom things made matter very little - somebody who is obsessed by Making.”
“...he smelled like somebody trying to smell like somebody else.”
“He had an affectionate heart. He must love somebody.”