Love, she said, should be said more slowly, and ran from the house. Words could not catch her as such. Honesty is so slow, that is the trouble. – Author Unknown

Our dream dashes itself against the great mystery like a wasp against a window pane. Less merciful than man, God never opens the window. – Jules Renard, Journal, 1906

The day was counting up its birds and never got the answer right. – Author unknown

And upsidedown in the earth a dead man walks upon my soles when I walk. – Bill Knott, “(End) of Summer (1966)” (Thanks, Laurie)