A Bird Half Wakened In The Lunar

Oh, Come Forth Into The Storm And Rout And Be My Love In The Rain.

The Difference Between A Man And His Valet: They Both Smoke The Same Cigars, But Only One Pays For Them.

That Day She Put Our Heads Together, Fate Had Her Imagination About Her, Your Head So Much Concerned With Outer, Mine With Inner, Weather.

A Poet Must Never Make A Statement Simply Because It Sounds Poetically Exciting; He Must Also Believe It To Be True." - W. H. Auden "a Poem...begins As A Lump In The Throat, A Sense Of Wrong, A Homesickness, A Lovesickness...it Finds The Thought And The Thought Finds The Words.

The Middle Of The Road Is Where The White Line Is - And That's The Worst Place To Drive.