In politics, arts / no issue's dramatic / nor will 'play' till its heart's / simplified to fanatic.

The world's perverse, but it could be worse.

One could not live without delicacy, but when / I think of love I think of the big, clumsy-looking / hands of my grandmother, each knuckle a knob.

Love' is finding the familiar dear. / 'In love' is to be taken by surprise.

There is no disorder but the heart's.

I bless / all knowledge of love, all ways of publishing it.

The end / of passion / may refashion / a friend.

She told her secret love, not me, i could’nt speak, i smiled.

Life proceeds, it enrages. The untouched ones spend their luck without a thought, believing they deserve it.

Brooklyn was like Philadelphia made better by its proximity to Manhattan.

And what strange voices they have! Sometimes like the complaining of small children; sometimes like the noise of lambs.

I would wrestle Hulk Hogan when I'm 50 years old.

I've got about eight pairs of shoes, and that's it.

I have a talent for dealing with difficult men.

I imagined what it would be like to hold a butterfly in your hands something bejeweled and treasured and to know that despite your devotion it was dying by degrees.

I'm always suffering from a labor shortage.

The tabloids operate in an amoral parallel universe where the bottom line is selling newspapers.