My Room For Books And Study Or

In The Night The Cabbages Catch At The Moon, The Leaves Drip Silver, The Rows Of Cabbages Are A Series Of Little Silver Waterfalls In The Moon.

Poetry Is The Establishment Of A Metaphorical Link Between White Butterfly-wings And The Scraps Of Torn-up Love-letters.

When I Was Writing Pretty Poor Poetry, This Girl With Midnight Black Hair Told Me To Go On.

The People Will Live On.the Learning And Blundering People Will Live On.

Tell Him Solitude Is Creative If He Is Strong And The Final Decisions Are Made In Silent Rooms. Tell Him To Be Different From Other People If It Comes Natural And Easy Being Different. Let Him Have Lazy Days Seeking His Deeper Motives. Let Him Seek Deep For Where He Is A Born Natural. Then He May Understand Shakespeare And The Wright Brothers, Pasteur, Pavlov, Michael Faraday And Free Imaginations Bringing Changes Into A World Resenting Change. He Will Be Lonely Enough To Have Time For The Work He Knows As His Own.