People Of Humor Are Always In Some

Forth From His Dark And Lonely Hiding-place, (portentous Sight!) The Owlet Atheism, Sailing On Obscene Wings Athwart The Noon, Drops His Blue-fringed Lids, And Holds Them Close, And Hooting At The Glorious Sun In Heaven, Cries Out, ''where Is It?''

Of No Agenor Of Any Religion, Or Party Or Profession. The Body And Substance Of His Works Came Out Of The Unfathomable Depths Of His Own Oceanic Mind.

I Never Knew A Trader In Philanthropy Who Was Not Wrong In His Head Or Heart Somewhere Or Other.

On The Greek Stage A Drama, Or Acted Story, Consisted In Reality Of Three Dramas, Called Together A Trilogy, And Performed Consecutively In The Course Of One Day.

Poetry Has Been To Me Its Own Exceeding Great Reward; It Has Given Me The Habit Of Wishing To Discover The Good And Beautiful In All That Meets And Surrounds Me.