In A Total Work, The Failures Have

A Poet Never Feels Useful.

We Only Keep What We Lose.

It Is Always Hard To Hear The Buried Truth From Another Person.

When Addressed, A Gentleman Cat Does Not Move A Muscle. He Looks As If He Hasn't Heard.

I Can Tell You That Solitude Is Not All Exaltation, Inner Space Where The Soul Breathes And Work Can Be Done. Solitude Exposes The Nerve, Raises Up Ghosts. The Past, Never At Rest, Flows Through It.