April Is The Cruellest Month.

All Cases Are Unique And Very Similar To Others.

Immature Poets Imitate; Mature Poets Steal.

Except For The Point, The Still Point, There Would Be No Dance, And There Is Only The Dance

My Name Is Only An Anagram Of Toilets.

Any Poet, If He Is To Survive Beyond His 25th Year, Must Alter; He Must Seek New Literary Influences; He Will Have Different Emotions To Express.