Dilettantes Appreciate The Work, Professors The Master

The Present Is Never Poetic As It Serves Necessity, Necessity, However, Is Prosaic.

Today Is, After All, Today, But Yesterday Is Of The Same Substance As Tomorrow.

The Prince Exults Whomever He Selects As His Consort, But The Queen, Rather Than Elevating The Subject Of Her Choice, Humiliates Him As A Man. By All That Is Right, A Man Is Not Intended To Be The Husband Of His Wife, But A Woman Is To Be Her Husband's Wife.

This Searching And Doubting And Vacillating Where Nothing Is Clear But The Arrogance Of Quest. I, Too, Had Such Noble Ideas When I Was Still A Boy.

The Plot! The Plot! What Kind Of Plot Could A Poet Possibly Provide That Is Not Surpassed By The Thinking, Feeling Reader? Form Alone Is Divine.