I am glad that I paid so little attention to good advice; had I abided by it I might have been saved from some of my most valuable mistakes.
My candle burns at both ends; it will not last the night; but ah, my foes, and oh, my friends - it gives a lovely light!
Beauty is whatever gives joy.
Life must go on; I forget just why.
Pour away despair and rinse the cup. Eat happiness like bread.
Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.
It's not true that life is one damn thing after another; it is one damn thing over and over.
I will be the gladdest thing under the sun! I will touch a hundred flowers and not pick one.
The soul can split the sky in two and let the face of God shine through.
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind; Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave. I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
When you publish something, it is very much as if you pulled your pants down in public. If what you have written is good, nobody can hurt you; if what you have written is bad, nobody can help you.
You are loved. If so, what else matters?
Life is a quest and love a quarrel
Although we sometimes did without a few of life's necessities, we rarely lacked for its luxuries.
Now the autumn shudders In the rose's root. Far and wide the ladders Lean among the fruit. Now the autumn clambers Up the trellised frame, And the rose remembers The dust from which it came. Brighter than the blossom On the rose's bough Sits the wizened orange, Bitter berry now; Beauty never slumbers; All is in her name; But the rose remembers The dust from which it came.
I love humanity but I hate people.
My heart is warm with the friends I make, And better friends I'll not be knowing, Yet there isn't a train I wouldn't take, No matter where it's going.
There is no shelter in you anywhere.
I am waylaid by beauty.
Please give me some good advice in your next letter. I promise not to follow it.
The world stands out on either side, No wider than the heart is wide.
Oh, you mean I'm a homosexual! Of course I am, and heterosexual too, but what's that got to do with my headache?
What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain Under my head till morning, but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh Upon the glass and listen for reply, And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain For unremembered lads that not again Will turn to me at midnight with a cry. Thus in the winter stands the lonely tree, Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one, Yet knows its boughs more silent than before: I cannot say what loves have come and gone, I only know that summer sang in me A little while, that in me sings no more.
This book, when I am dead, will be A little faint perfume of me. People who knew me well will say, She really used to think that way.
Beauty never slumbers; All is in her name; But the rose remembers The dust from which it came.
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