I See A Lot Of Fog And

Television Excites Me Because It Seems To Be The Last Stamping Ground Of Poetry, The Last Place Where I Hear Women's Hair Rhapsodically Described, Women's Faces Acclaimed In Odelike Language.

Despite All Our Toil And Progress, The Art Of Medicine Still Falls Somewhere Between Trout Casting And Spook Writing.

He Was In Love With Life As An Ant On A Summer Blade Of Grass.

Time Is A Circus, Always Packing Up And Moving Away.

Of The Things Men Give Each Other The Greatest Is Loyalty.