From The Colour The Nature And By

Consider The Way Of The Scientists Rather Than The Way Of An Advertising Agent For A New Soap.

The Primary Pigment Of Poetry Is The Image.

When Words Cease To Cling Close To Things, Kingdoms Fall, Empires Wane And Diminish.

I Have Tried To Write Paradise Do Not Move Let The Wind Speak That Is Paradise. Let The Gods Forgive What I Have Made Let Those I Love Try To Forgive What I Have Made.

Install Me In Any Profession Save This Damn'd Profession Of Writing, Where One Needs One's Brains All The Time.