It Is Sweet To Think I Was

The Purpose Of Poetry Is To Remind Us How Difficult It Is To Remain Just One Person, For Our House Is Open, There Are No Keys In The Doors, And Invisible Guests Come In And Out At Will.

Grow Your Tree Of Falsehood From A Small Grain Of Truth. Do Not Follow Those Who Lie In Contempt Of Reality. Let Your Lie Be Even More Logical Than The Truth Itself, So The Weary Travelers May Find Repose.

Vulgarized Knowledge Characteristically Gives Birth To A Feeling That Everything Is Understandable And Explained. It Is Like A System Of Bridges Built Over Chasms. One Can Travel Boldly Ahead Over These Bridges, Ignoring The Chasms. It Is Forbidden To Look Down Into Them; But That, Alas, Does Not Alter The Fact That They Exist.

What Is This Enigmatic Impulse That Does Not Allow One To Settle Down In The Achieved, The Finished? I Think It Is A Quest For Reality.

Two Attributes Of A Poet, Avidity Of The Eye And The Desire To Describe That Which He Sees.