A Poem May Be Worked Over Once

One Of The Lies Would Make It Out That Nothing Ever Presents Itself Before Us Twice. Where Would We Be At Last If That Were So? Our Very Life Depends On Everything's Recurring Till We Answer From Within.

The Best Things And Best People Rise Out Of Their Separateness; I'm Against A Homogenized Society Because I Want The Cream To Rise.

Skepticism, Is That Anything More Than We Used To Mean When We Said, Well, What Have We Here?

Some Say The World Will End In Fire, Some Say In Ice. From What I've Tasted Of Desire, I Hold With Those Who Favor Fire. But If It Had To Perish Twice I Think I Know Enough Of Hate To Say That For Destruction Ice Is Also Great And Would Suffice.

Any Work Of Art Must First Of All Tell A Story.