My Muse sits forlornShe wishes she had not been bornShe sits in the coldNo word she says is ever told. - Stevie Smith
But one wants the idea of Death, you know, as something large and unknowable, something that allows a person to stretch himself out. Especially one wants it if one is tired. Or perhaps what one wants is simply a release from sensation, from all consciousness for ever.... - Stevie Smith