Come On, You Do You Want To

Always The Path Of American Destiny Has Been Into The Unknown. Always There Arose Enough Reserves Of Strength, Balances Of Sanity, Portions Of Wisdom To Carry The Nation Through To A Fresh Start With Ever-renewing Vitality.

Poetry Is An Art Practiced With The Terribly Plastic Material Of Human Language.

There Are Dreams Stronger Than Death. Men And Women Die Holding These Dreams.

After The Sunset On The Prairie, There Are Only The Stars

I Have Become Infected, Now That I See How Beautifully A Book Is Coming Out Of All This.