By Mourning Tongues The Death Of The

Recipe For The Upbringing Of A Poet: 'as Much Neurosis As The Child Can Bear.

Dance Till The Stars Come Down From The Rafters Dance, Dance, Dance 'till You Drop.

See Without Looking, Hear Without Listening, Breathe Without Asking.

God Bless The Usa, So Large, So Friendly, And So Rich.

And None Will Hear The Postman’s Knock Without A Quickening Of The Heart. For Who Can Bear To Feel Himself Forgotten?