Firewood, hay, brittle, vulnerable needs but one splinter, to wreck it. One match, even touching from a distance is enough solution : keep it dipped in water. Make a pickle, and eat the goddamn trouble maker.
"Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things."
T. S. Eliot
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