One Cannot Review A Bad Book Without

Mad Ireland Hurt You Into Poetry.

Every Man Carries With Him Through Life A Mirror, As Unique And Impossible To Get Rid Of As His Shadow.

Dance Till The Stars Come Down From The Rafters Dance, Dance, Dance 'till You Drop.

Art Is Born Of Humiliation.

Christmas And Easter Can Be Subjects For Poetry, But Good Friday, Like Auschwitz, Cannot. The Reality Is So Horrible It Is Not Surprising That People Should Have Found It A Stumbling Block To Faith.