Hell Is A Half-filled Auditorium.

I Never Knew What Was Meant By Choice Of Words. It Was One Word Or None.

Nature Is Always Hinting At Us. It Hints Over And Over Again. And Suddenly We Take The Hint.

Poetry Is The Renewal Of Words, Setting Them Free, And That's What A Poet Is Doing: Loosening The Words.

What We Live By We Die By.

Fortunately, We Don't Need To Know How Bad An Age Is. There Is Something We Can Always Be Doing Without Reference To How Good Or Bad The Age Is.