They say when you are missing someone that they are probably feeling the same, but I don't think it's possible for you to miss me as much as I'm missing you right now
I know I am but summer to your heart, and not the full four seasons of the year.
Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell.
Please give me some good advice in your next letter. I promise not to follow it.
My heart is warm with the friends I make, And better friends I'll not be knowing, Yet there isn't a train I wouldn't take, No matter where it's going.
My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night; But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends— It gives a lovely light!
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely.
I am glad that I paid so little attention to good advice; had I abided by it I might have been saved from some of my most valuable mistakes.
Childhood is not from birth to a certain age and at a certain age. The child is grown, and puts away childish things. Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies.
After all my erstwhile dear, my no longer cherished; Need we say it was not love, just because it perished?
I will be the gladdest thing under the sun! I will touch a hundred flowers and not pick one.
It's not true that life is one damn thing after another; it's one damn thing over and over.
I love humanity but I hate people.
You see, I am a poet, and not quite right in the head, darling. It’s only that.
What should I be but just what I am?
Pity me that the heart is slow to learn What the swift mind beholds at every turn.
Night falls fast. Today is in the past. Blown from the dark hill hither to my door Three flakes, then four Arrive, then many more.
Ebb I know what my heart is like Since your love died: It is like a hollow ledge Holding a little pool Left there by the tide, A little tepid pool, Drying inward from the edge.
Soar, eat ether, see what has never been seen; depart, be lost, but climb.
There is no shelter in you anywhere.
The longest absence is less perilous to love than the terrible trials of incessant proximity.
Lost in Hell,-Persephone, Take her head upon your knee; Say to her, "My dear, my dear, It is not so dreadful here.
No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place.
Music, my rampart and my only one.
This book, when I am dead, will be A little faint perfume of me. People who knew me well will say, She really used to think that way.
She is happy where she lies With the dust upon her eyes.
A person who publishes a book willfully appears before the populace with his pants down. If it is a good book nothing can hurt him. If it is a bad book nothing can help him.
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind; Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave. I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.
Please give me some good advice in your next letter. I promise not to follow it. (in a letter written while she was in college)
You are loved. If so, what else matters?