I Was The Basest Of Readers. All

She Sleepwalked From Moment To Moment, And Whole Months Slipped By Without Memory, Without Bearing The Faintest Imprint Of Her Conscious Will.

Could It Ever Be Explained, How Matter Becomes Conscious?

The Trouble With Being A Daydreamer Who Doesn’t Say Much Is That The Teachers At School, Especially Those Who Don’t Know You Very Well, Are Likely To Think You’re Rather Stupid. Or, If Not Stupid, Then Dull. No One Can See The Amazing Things That Are Going On In Your Head.

But To Do Its Noticing And Judging, Poetry Balances Itself On The Pinprick Of The Moment. Slowing Down, Stopping Yourself Completely, To Read And Understand A Poem Is Like Trying To Acquire An Old-fashioned Skill.

You Enter A State Of Controlled Passivity, You Relax Your Grip And Accept That Even If Your Declared Intention Is To Justify The Ways Of God To Man, You Might End Up Interesting Your Readers Rather More In Satan.