“The light at the end of the tunnel is just the light of an oncoming train.”

“If we see light at the end of the tunnel, it the light of the oncoming train.”

“I saw the spiders marching through the air, Swimming from tree to tree that mildewed day In latter August when the hay Came creaking to the barn. But where The wind is westerly, Where gnarled November makes the spiders fly Into the apparitions of the sky, They purpose nothing but their ease and die...”

“We are all old-timers, each of us holds a locked razor.”