My Personal Hobbies Are Reading, Listening To

As For The Usefulness Of Poetry, Its Uses Are Many. It Is The Deification Of Reality.

Winter Is The Time For Comfort, For Good Food And Warmth, For The Touch Of A Friendly Hand And For A Talk Beside The Fire: It Is The Time For Home. It Is No Season In Which To Wander The World As If One Were The Wind Blowing Aimlessly Along The Streets Without A Place To Rest, Without Food, And Without Time Meaning Anything To One, Just As Time Means Nothing To The Wind.

The Trouble With Most Englishwomen Is That They Will Dress As If They Had Been A Mouse In A Previous Incarnation... They Do Not Want To Attract Attention.

Rhythm Is One Of The Principal Translators Between Dream And Reality.

All Great Poetry Is Dipped In The Dyes Of The Heart.