I Was Born To Be Alone, And

The World Is Like A Little Marsh Filled With Mint And White Hawthorn.

I Read Of The Kalamazoo Girl Who Killed Herself After Reading The Book. I Am Not At All Surprised. She Lived In Kalamazoo, For One Thing, And Then She Read The Book.

I Want To Write Such Things As Compel The Admiring Acclamation Of The World At Large, Such Things As Are Written But Once In Years, Things Subtle But Distinctly Different From The Books Written Every Day.

Of Poets I Put Virgil First - He Was Greatest.

However Great One's Gift Of Language May Be, There Is Always Something That One Cannot Tell.