Love Is Not Love Until Love's Vulnerable.

I Can't Go On Flying Apart Just For Those Who Want The Benefit Of A Few Verbal Kicks. My God, Do You Know What Poems Like That Cost? They're Not Written Vicariously: They Come Out Of Actual Suffering, Real Madness.

I Wake To Sleep, And Take My Waking Slow. I Feel My Fate In What I Cannot Fear. I Learn By Going Where I Have To Go.

Reason? That Dreary Shed, That Hutch For Grubby Schoolboys.

How Terrible The Need For God.

By Daily Dying, I Have Come To Be.