One Of The Springs Of Poetry Is

They Are Commiting Murder Who Merely Live.

Words Are More Powerful Than Perhaps Anyone Suspects, And Once Deeply Engraved In A Child's Mind, They Are Not Easily Eradicated.

Pain Can Make A Whole Winter Bright, Like Fever, Force Us To Live Deep And Hard.

For Poetry Exists To Break Through To Below The Level Of Reason Where The Angels And Monsters That The Amenities Keep In The Cellar May Come Out To Dance, To Rove And Roar, Growling And Singing, To Bring Life Back To The Enclosed Rooms Where Too Often We Are Only 'living And Partly Living.

Fighting Dragons Is My Holy Joy.