“All our words are but crumbs that fall down from the feast of the mind.”
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“Inspiration will always sing; inspiration will never explain. We often sing lullabies to our children that we ourselves may sleep. All our words are but crumbs that fall down from the feast of the mind.”
“Catch from the board of beauty/ Such careless crumbs as fall.”
“We met every morning, still bearded with toast crumbs from our continental breakfasts.”
“All words are possible, then, all names. They rain down, all these words, they disintegrate into a powdery avalanche. Belched from the volcano's mouth, they spurt in to the sky, then fall again. In the quivering air, like gelatine, the sounds trace their bubble paths. Can you imagine that?”
“We set down feasts for each other and treated our love with tongues of fire. Our bodies were fields of wonder to us.”