Let All Your Thinks Be Thanks.

Sob, Heavy World Sob As You Spin, Mantled In Mist Remote From The Happy.

One Of The Troubles Of Our Times Is That We Are All, I Think, Precocious As Personalities And Backward As Characters.

A Poet Can Write About A Man Slaying A Dragon, But Not About A Man Pushing A Button That Releases A Bomb.

Hunger Allows No Choice.

God Bless The Usa, So Large, So Friendly, And So Rich.