I Met God. 'what,' He Said, 'you

Pseudo-modernists Pursue Individual Style Because They Know They Cannot Make A Name Without It; But If They Had Lived In The Eighteenth Century Their Sole Object Would Have Been To Write Correctly, To Conform To The Manner Of The Period. In Practice, Their Conforming Individualism Means An Imitation, Studiously Concealed, Of The Eccentricities Of Poems Which Really Are Individual.

The Terms 'male' And 'female' Must Be Understood As Representing No Mere Primitive Opposition Of Sex To Sex; But As Defining Two Worlds Of Differing Quality, In Either Of Which Men And Women May Jointly Move And Live.

Much Of The Magical Effect That Poetry Gives Of Rendering Everything It Touches Pellucid Comes From The Necessity Of Compression That It Imposes. The Impossibility Of Pausing In Poetry As Long As May Be Needed To Make Sense Clear Causes Many A Set Of Words Actually Deficient In Linguistic Workmanship To Pass For An Eloquent Brevity.

Because Most People Are Not Sufficiently Employed In Themselves, They Run About Loose, Hungering For Employment, And Satisfy Themselves In Various Supererogatory Occupations. The Easiest Of These Occupations, Which Have All To Do With Making Things Already Made, Is The Making Of People: It Is Called The Art Of Friendship.

Every Thought Sounds Like A Footfall, Till A Thought Like A Boot Kicks Down The Wall.