I bear a little more than I can bear.

In masks outrageous and austere The years go by in single file; But none has merited my fear, And none has quite escaped my smile.

When strawberries go begging, and the sleek Blue plums lie open to the blackbird's beak, We shall live well--we shall live very well.

I am better able to imagine hell than heaven; it is my inheritance, I suppose.

My lord, adjudge my strength, and set me where I bear a little more than I can bear.

If you would keep your soul From spotted sight or sound, Live like the velvet mole; Go burrow underground.

Peaches grow wild, and pigs can live in clover; A barrel of salted herrings lasts a year; The spring begins before the winter's over.

I shall lie folded like a saint, Lapped in a scented linen sheet, On a bedstead striped with bright-blue paint, Narrow and cold and neat.

If any have a stone to throw It is not I, ever or now.

Down to the Puritan marrow of my bones There's something in this richness that I hate. I love the look, austere, immaculate, Of landscapes drawn in pearly monotones.

An old earthen pipe like myself is dry and thirsty and so a most voracious drinker of life at its source; I'm no more to be split by the vital stream than if I were stone or steel.

When we pay attention to sensations in our bodies, we can feel that love is the energetic opposite of fear.

Although I am no longer caught in the past, the future seems like a ridiculous thing to me. Try to catch it, hold it in your hand. It disappears every time.

The greatest thing a human being can do is to be compassionate to humanity.

Gifts of time and love are surely the basic ingredients of a truly merry Christmas.

Create history and write your own.

Death is the most beautiful adventure in life.

It is harder to hide the feelings we have than to feign the ones we do not have.

Nyarlathotep . . . the crawling chaos . . . I am the last . . . I will tell the audient void. . . .

Today's competitiveness, so much imposed from without, is exhausting, not exhilarating; is unending-a part of one's social life, one's solitude, one's sleep, one's sleeplessness.

For once, I didn't look back.