Novels Seem To Me To Be Richer,

A Good Meal Can Somewhat Repair / The Eatings Of Slight Love

I Didn't Choose Poetry: Poetry Chose Me.

And Immediately Rather Than Words Comes The Thought Of High Windows: The Sun-comprehending Glass, And Beyond It, The Deep Blue Air, That Shows Nothing, And Is Nowhere, And Is Endless.

I Think That At The Bottom Of All Art Lies The Impulse To Preserve.

Sex Is Designed For People Who Like Overcoming Obstacles.