If they give you ruled paper, write the other way.

It's hard to be nostalgic when you can't remember anything.

Sharp nostalgia, infinite and terrible, for what I already possess.

I have a feeling that my boat has struck, down there in the depths, against a great thing. And nothing happens! Nothing ... Silence ... Waves. Nothing happens? Or Has everything Happened and we are standing now, quietly, in the new life?

Literature is a state of culture, poetry is a state of grace, before and after culture.

First of all, good morning. How long will this take? I didn't commit a grave crime.