Death Is One Dream Out Of Another

No God Save Self, That Is The Way To Live.

Youth Yearns To Youth, Full Blood Loves Full Blood Only.

Music I Heard With You Was More Than Music, And Bread I Broke With You Was More Than Bread. Now That I Am Without You, All Is Desolate; All That Was Once So Beautiful Is Dead.

I'm Afraid I Wasn't Much Of A Student, But My Casual Reading Was Enormous.

Oh, I've Discarded A Great Many [poems]. And Occasionally I've Discarded And Then Resurrected. I Would Find A Crumpled Yellow Ball Of Paper In The Wastebasket, In The Morning, And Open It To See What The Hell I'd Been Up To; And Occasionally It Was Something That Needed Only A Very Slight Change To Be Brought Off, Which I'd Missed The Day Before.