A Thousand Kindnesses Do Not Make Up

O Fortunate Bride, Who Never Again Will Become Elated After Childbirth! O Lucky Older Wife, Who Has Been Cured Of Feeling Unwanted!

At Midnight Tears Run Into Your Ears.

The Intellectual Is A Middle-class Product; If He Is Not Born Into The Class He Must Soon Insert Himself Into It, In Order To Exist. He Is The Fine Nervous Flower Of The Bourgeoisie.

Because Language Is The Carrier Of Ideas, It Is Easy To Believe That It Should Be Very Little Else Than Such A Carrier.

The Poem Is Always The Last Resort. In It The Poet Makes A World In Little, And Finds Peace, Even Though, Under Complete Focused Emotion, The Evocation Be Far More Bitter Than Reality, Or Far More Lovely.