All The Little Emptiness Of Love!

Proud, Then, Clear-eyed And Laughing, Go To Greet Death As A Friend!

Fish Say, They Have Their Stream And Pond; But Is There Anything Beyond?

But Only Agony, And That Has Ending; And The Worst Friend And Enemy Is But Death.

There Are Only Three Things In The World, One Is To Read Poetry, Another Is To Write Poetry, And The Best Of All Is To Live Poetry.

I Have A Thousand Images Of You In An Hour; All Different And All Coming Back To The Same. I Think Of You Once Against A Sky Line: And On The Hill That Sunday Morning. The Light And The Shadow And Quietness And The Rain And The Wood. And You. Your Arms And Lips And Hair And Shoulders And Voice - You.