No One's Serious At Seventeen.

Yet This Is The Watch By Night. Let Us All Accept New Strength, And Real Tenderness. And At Dawn, Armed With Glowing Patience, We Will Enter The Cities Of Glory.

Is It In These Bottomless Nights That You Sleep In Exile?

...these Poets Here, You See, They Are Not Of This World:let Them Live Their Strange Life; Let Them Be Cold And Hungry, Let Them Run, Love And Sing: They Are As Rich As Jacques Coeur, All These Silly Children, For They Have Their Souls Full Of Rhymes, Rhymes Which Laugh And Cry, Which Make Us Laugh Or Cry: Let Them Live: God Blesses All The Merciful: And The World Blesses The Poets.

The Only Unbearable Thing Is That Nothing Is Unbearable.

I Have Stretched Ropes From Steeple To Steeple; Garlands From Window To Window; Golden Chains From Star To Star, And I Dance.