I Write With Experiences In Mind, But

A Yak Is A Prehistoric Cabbage; Of That, We Can Be Sure.

One Can Lose A Good Idea By Not Writing It Down, Yet By Losing It One Can Have It: It Nourishes Other Asides It Knows Nothing Of, Would Not Recognize Itself In, Yet When The Negotiations Are Terminated, Speaks In The Acts Of That Progenitor, And Does Recognize Itself, Is Grateful For Not Having Done So Earlier.

Sometimes A Musical Phrase Would Perfectly Sum Up The Mood Of A Moment. One Of Those Lovelorn Sonatas For Wind Instruments Was Riding Past On A Solemn White Horse. Everybody Wondered Who The New Arrival Was.

I Like Poems You Can Tack All Over With A Hammer And There Are No Hollow Places.

Once You've Lived In France, You Don't Want To Live Anywhere Else, Including France.