you [...] walk from breakfast to madness

The night I came I danced a circle/ and was not afraid.

with a singing in the head./ I have forgotten all the rest.

Music pours over the sense/ and in a funny way/ music sees more than I./ I mean it remembers better;

We chew in rows, our plates/ scratch and whine like chalk// in school. There are no knives/ for cutting your throat.

Touch me. Soft eyes. Soft soft soft hand. I am lonely here. O, touch me soon, now. What is that word known to all men? I am quiet here alone. Sad too. Touch, touch me.

A primrose doublet, fortune's knave, smiled on my fear.

a darkness shining in brightness which brightness could not comprehend

'I saw her kiss him,' said Susan. 'I looked between the leaves and saw her. She danced in flecked with diamonds light as dust. And I am squat, Bernard, I am short. I have eyes that look close to the ground and see insects in the grass. The yellow warmth in my side turned to stone when I saw Jinny kiss Louis. I shall eat grass and die in a ditch in the brown water where dead leaves have rotted.'

' ... I saw her kiss him. I saw them, Jinny and Louis, kissing. Now I will wrap my agony inside my pocket-handkerchief. It shall be screwed tight into a ball. [...] I will take my anguish and lay it upon the roots under the beech trees. I will examine it and take it between my fingers. They will not find me. I shall eat nuts and peer for eggs through the brambles and my hair will be matted and I shall sleep under hedges and drink water from ditches and die there.'

She has kissed me. All is shattered.

All tremors shake me, and the weight of the earth is pressed to my ribs.

'I burn, I shiver,' said Jinny, 'out of this sun, into this shadow.'

'Suddenly a bee booms in my ear,' said Neville. 'It is here; it is past.'

Gradually the fibres of the burning bonfire were fused into one haze, one incandescence which lifted the weight of the woolen grey sky on top of it and turned it to a million atoms of soft blue.

"[...] du hast Talent. Ich beneide dich sehr, es ist wunderbar, Talent zu haben. Es ist eine große Gabe." "Ich würde eher sagen, es ist furchtbar, Talent zu haben." "Das verstehe ich nicht. Warum?" "Ich mag dieses Wort nicht, es ist so oberflächlich, aber gut, lassen wir es beim Talent", sagt Kasia."Wissen Sie, was das ist? Es ist wie etwas, das man immer aufkratzen muß." "Warum denn aufkratzen", wundert sich die Lehrerin. "Sonst würde es verheilen."

[a song straining ...] through lights, new as the springtime lit up by fashion and that I don't see the hands to which I opened my doors and that I don't see the minds into which I lay my worlds and that, and that, that I am not amongst you. I adored paths by which a mist of gold enters the city amid tarnished rainbows [...] I adored sated evenings, robust nights, and love which doesn't poison you [...] I adored every creature with which the world is enriched, not cluttered, I adored every greatness unfolding in a yawning lap, I adored, adored, it didn't change a thing the walls remained firm, so the fruits rot. [...] To believe in my words, it's enough for me to look at the clock, to think, enough to defend myself, but to act, I need cities in which a spark feeds on the fat of praise, and where there are those who would dream what I dream like me. So I regret that I don't see the minds for whom I opened a door and that I don't see the hands in which I lay my worlds and that, and that, that from my dreams I won't make our dreams, I, I the mayor, I the mayor of homeless dreams.