Habits Are Happiness Of A Sort...

The Ways We Miss Our Lives Are Life.

Robert Frost Says In A Piece Of Homely Doggerel That He Has Hoped Wisdom Could Be Not Only Attic But Laconic, Boeotian Even - "at Least Not Systematic"; But How Systematically Frostian The Worst Of His Later Poems Are! His Good Poems Are The Best Refutation Of, The Most Damning Comment On, His Bad: His Complete Poems Have The Air Of Being Able To Educate Any Faithful Reader Into Tearing Out A Third Of The Pages, Reading A Third, And Practically Wearing Out The Rest.

Early In His Life Mr. [ezra] Pound Met With Strong, Continued, And Unintelligent Opposition. If People Keep Opposing You When You Are Right, You Think Them Fools; And After A Time, Right Or Wrong, You Think Them Fools Simply Because They Oppose You. Similarly, You Write True Things Or Good Things, And End By Thinking Things True Or Good Simply Because You Write Them

Is An Institution Always A Man's Shadow Shortened In The Sun, The Lowest Common Denominator Of Everybody In It?

Modern" Poetry Is, Essentially, An Extension Of Romanticism; It Is What Romantic Poetry Wishes Or Finds It Necessary To Become. It Is The End Product Of Romanticism, All Past And No Future; It Is Impossible To Go Further By Any Extrapolation Of The Process By Which We Have Arrived, And Certainly It Is Impossible To Remain Where We Are Who Could Endure A Century Of Transition ?