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!
Pour away despair and rinse the cup. Eat happiness like bread.
It's not true that life is one damn thing after another; it is one damn thing over and over.
Life must go on; I forget just why.
Life is a quest and love a quarrel
I will be the gladdest thing under the sun! I will touch a hundred flowers and not pick one.
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.
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.
The soul can split the sky in two and let the face of God shine through.
Beauty is whatever gives joy.
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.
You are loved. If so, what else matters?
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.
Please give me some good advice in your next letter. I promise not to follow it.
I love humanity but I hate people.
O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
Beauty never slumbers; All is in her name; But the rose remembers The dust from which it came.
April comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
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.
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.
What should I be but just what I am?
Ah, I could lay me down in this long grass And close my eyes, and let the quiet wind Blow over me
I dread no more the first white in my hair, Or even age itself, the easy shoe, The cane, the wrinkled hands, the special chair: Time, doing this to me, may alter too My anguish, into something I can bear
Not Truth, but Faith it is that keeps the world alive.
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