“I desire the company of a man who could sympathize with me, whose eyes would reply to mine... gentle yet corageous, possesed, as a cultivated as well as a capacious mind, whose tastes are like my own to aprove or amend my plans.”

“I shall commit my thoughts to paper, it is true; but that is a poor medium for the communication of feeling. I desire the company of a man who could sympathize with me, whose eyes would reply to mine.”

“And I like those authors best whose scenes describe my own situation in life-- and the friends who are about me whose stories touch me with interest, from resembling my own homely existence.”

“Be the man who has the spirit of a ruthless tiger, ravaging every dusty corner of my soul.Be the man for whom I will tame myself voluntarily..Be the man who can make me forget my birth date in moments of utter dellusion.Be the man whose arms are my harbor, whose lips are my shore, and whose name is my only salvation.Be the man who erases my past and draws my future with trails of roses and kisses.Be the man who makes me sigh behind the windows of Poetry, longing to be written. Be the man whose cigarette's ashes are confounded with mine.Be the man whose voice moves mountains inside me.Be the man whose eyes devour the innocence within me with every piercing glance.Be the man for whom I will transform exceptions into rules.Be the man who will dare to tear this poem from my hands.The man who will rewrite with the uncertainty of the futur every single one of my verses.”

“I could not be happy with a man whose taste did not in every point coincide with my own. He must enter in all my feelings; the same books, the same music must charm us both.”

“A Word Of ThanksTo these I know a debt past telling:My several muses, harsh and kind;My folks, who stood my sulks and yelling,And (in the long run) did not mind;Dead legislators, whose orationsI've filched to mix my own potations;Indeed, all those whose brains I've pressed,Unmerciful, because obsessed;My own dumb soul, which on a pittanceSurvived to weave this fictive spell;And, gentle reader, you as well,The fountainhead of all remittance.Buy me before good sense insistsYou'll strain your purse and sprain your wrists.”