I Speak To You. You Speak To

Reality Is The Completion Of Experience.

If There Were No Poetry On Any Day In The World, Poetry Would Be Invented That Day. For There Would Be An Intolerable Hunger.

Always Our Wars Have Been Our Confessions Of Weakness

The Universe Of Poetry Is The Universe Of Emotional Truth. Our Material Is In The Way We Feel And The Way We Remember.

In Time Of Crisis, We Summon Up Our Strength. Then, If We Are Lucky, We Are Able To Call Every Resource, Every Forgotten Image That Can Leap To Our Quickening, Every Memory That Can Make Us Know Our Power. And This Luck Is More Than It Seems To Be: It Depends On The Long Preparation Of The Self To Be Used.