Nature Is Always Hinting At Us. It

Two Roads Diverged In A Wood And I - I Took The One Less Traveled By, And That Has Made All The Difference.

You Can't Get Too Much Winter In The Winter.

Only God And I Knew What I Meant When I Wrote It, Now Only God Knows

I Have Just Been To A City In The West, A City Full Of Poets, A City They Have Made Safe For Poets. The Whole City Is So Lovely That You Do Not Have To Write It Up To Make It Poetry; It Is Ready-made For You. But, I Don't Know - The Poetry Written In That City Might Not Seem Like Poetry If Read Outside Of The City. It Would Be Like The Jokes Made When You Were Drunk; You Have To Get Drunk Again To Appreciate Them.

What Are We? Young Or New? We Must Be Something.