“Sorry, my dear, one mustn't be bohemian!”

“Over the tea-cups and in the square the tongue has its desire; Still waters run deep, my dear, there's never smoke without fire. ”

“Say this city has ten million souls,Some are living in mansions, some are living in holes:Yet there’s no place for us, my dear, yet there’s no place for us.”

“Oh dear white children, casual as birds,Playing among the ruined languages,So small beside their large confusing words.”

“O dear white children casual as birds,Playing among the ruined languages,So small beside their large confusing words,So gay against the greater silencesOf dreadful things you did…”

“As I walked out one evening, Walking down Bristol Street,The crowds upon the pavement Were fields of harvest wheat.And down by the brimming river I heard a lover singUnder an arch of the railway: 'Love has no ending.'I'll love you, dear, I'll love you Till China and Africa meet,And the river jumps over the mountain And the salmon sing in the street,'I'll love you till the ocean Is folded and hung up to dryAnd the seven stars go squawking Like geese about the sky.”

“Like everyone else, I have my black list of unfavorite authors and critics, and among intimate friends I sometimes say exactly what I think of them, but I have the feeling that to express my opinions publicly would be in bad taste, that, to people whom one does not know personally, one should speak only of the authors and critics one is fond of. I find reading savage reviews like reading pornography; though I often enjoy them, I feel a bit ashamed of myself for doing so. Still, I must admit that I find Nietzsche's list of his "impracticals" great fun.”