Death: The Anaesthetic From Which None Come

If You Tell A Novelist, 'life's Not Like That', He Has To Do Something About It. The Poet Simply Replies, 'no, But I Am.'

Since The Majority Of Me Rejects The Majority Of You, Debating Ends Forthwith, And We Divide.'' Philip Larkin

One Of The Great Criticisms Of Poets Of The Past Is That They Said One Thing And Did Another.

Joy Is For The Simple Or The Great To Feel, Neither Of Which We Are.

Uncontradicting Solitude Supports Me On Its Giant Palm; And Like A Sea-anemone Or Simple Snail, There Cautiously Unfolds, Emerges, What I Am.