You're on earth. There's no cure for that.

That's how it is on this bitch of an earth

If you do not love me I shall not be loved If I do not love you I shall not love.

Just under the surface I shall be, all together at first, then separate and drift, through all the earth and perhaps in the end through a cliff into the sea, something of me. A ton of worms in an acre, that is a wonderful thought, a ton of worms, I believe it.

There's man all over for you, blaming on his boots the fault of his feet.

What do I know of man's destiny? I could tell you more about radishes.