I Climb, I Backtrack. I Float. I

I Got Saved By Poetry. And I Got Saved By The Beauty Of The World.

... Let Us Risk The Wildest Places, Lest We Go Down In Comfort, And Despair.

On Poetry: Everyone Wants To Know What It Means. But Nobody Is Asking, How Does It Feel?

A Fact: One Picks It Up And Reads It, And Puts It Down, And There Is An End To It. But An Idea! That One May Pick Up, And Reflect Upon, And Oppose, And Expand, And So Pass A Delightful Afternoon Altogether.

We Do Not Love Anything More Deeply Than We Love A Story.