I Have No Wisdom, No Skills, And

Learning To Believe You Are Magnificent. And Gradually To Discover That You Are Not Magnificent. Enough Labor For One Human Life.

What Has No Shadow Has No Strength To Live.

Human Material Seems To Have One Major Defect: It Does Not Like To Be Considered Merely As Human Material. It Finds It Hard To Endure The Feeling That It Must Resign Itself To Passive Acceptance Of Changes Introduced From Above.

The History Of My Stupidity Would Fill Many Volumes.

Every Poet Depends Upon Generations Who Wrote In His Native Tongue; He Inherits Styles And Forms Elaborated By Those Who Lived Before Him. At The Same Time, Though, He Feels That Those Old Means Of Expression Are Not Adequate To His Own Experience.