------------------------------------------------- Naught's had, all's spent Where our desire is got without content. 'Tis safer to be that which we destroy
“The Death of Fishes” The great green eye of the wave rolls a pea along a socket; the glimmer in the shore bludgeons the death of fishes; Incandescence along the shore
If you seek the root of suffering, look to a woman. She is filled to her sweet and cheery brim with it, and she'll never hesitate to fill your cup, too.