Quand sur ton présent se déploie
Le nuage affreux du passé.

—Qu'il était bleu, le ciel, et grand, l'espoir!

—L'espoir a fui, vaincu, vers le ciel noir.
Tels ils marchaient dans les avoines folles, Et la nuit seule entendit leurs paroles.

(verlaine's colloque sentimental)

—Te souvient-il de notre extase ancienne?
—Pourquoi voulez-vous donc qu'il m'en souvienne?

—Ton coeur bat-il toujours à mon seul nom?
Toujours vois-tu mon âme en rêve? —Non.

Ah! les beaux jours de bonheur indicible
Où nous joignions nos bouches! —C'est possible.

That's because I'm the only actor and there are few humans whose lives will make an interesting play.
Don't you agree?

(anne sexton's the play)

And such and such.
Many boos. Many boos.

Despite that I go on to the last lines:
To be without God is to be a snake who wants to swallow an elephant.
The curtain falls.
The audience rushes out.
It was a bad performance.

Suddenly I stop running.
(This moves the plot along a bit.)
I give speeches, hundreds, all prayers, all soliloquies.
I say absurd things like:
egss must not quarrel with stones or, keep your broken arm inside your sleeve or, I am standing upright but my shadow is crooked.

The Poet bears a likeness to that prince of the air,
who mocks at slingshots, and haunts the winds:
on earth, an exile among the scornful, where
he is hampered, in walking, by his giant wings.

(1636 / 1618.)

(1618.)

And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In her sepulchre there by the sea—
In her tomb by the side of the sea.

currently a dreadful feeling passes by my heart for having to crop these.