I Cry. Evil Dissolves, & Love, Like

Life, Friends, Is Boring. We Must Not Say So. After All, The Sky Flashes, The Great Sea Yearns, We Ourselves Flash And Yearn

Bats Have No Bankers And They Do Not Drink And Cannot Be Arrested And Pay No Tax And, In General, Bats Have It Made.

I Didn't Want To Be Like Yeats; I Wanted To Be Yeats.

I Think That What Happens In My Poetic Work In The Future Will Depend On My Being Knocked In The Face, And Thrown Flat, And Given Cancer, And All Kinds Of Other Things Short Of Senile Dementia.

Two Daiquiris Withdrew Into A Corner Of A Gorgeous Room And One Told The Other A Lie.