“How can I wear the harness of toilAnd sweat at the daily round,While in my soul foreverThe drums of Pictdom sound?”
“My soul is a hidden orchestra; I know not what instruments, what fiddlestrings and harps, drums and tamboura I sound and clash inside myself. All I hear is the symphony.”
“Hey! My body may be small, but my soul is large. It’s why I wear platforms. So I can reach the top of my soul.”
“I work in my pajamas most of the time. No matter what you’re wearing, you can sound businesslike on the phone.”
“For I need this scar over my heart to remind me. Crazy as it sounds, if I can bear the wound on my body, it lessens what I must carry on my soul. How he knew that about me, I cannot fathom.”
“I make my own cologne. It’s called “Sweat,” and it’s hard work making it. But I can tell people love it, because they’re so envious and jealous when I wear it that they avoid me altogether.”