Perhaps This Very Instant Is Your Time.

The Art Of One Period Cannot Be Approached Through The Attitudes (emotional Or Intellectual) Of Another.

Up From The Bronze, I Saw Water Without A Flaw Rush To Its Rest In Air Reach To Its Rest, And Fall.

But Childhood Prolonged, Cannot Remain A Fairyland. It Becomes A Hell.

I'll Lie Here And Learn How, Over Their Ground, Trees Make A Long Shadow And A Light Sound.

What We Suffer, What We Endure, What We Muff, What We Kill, What We Miss, What We Are Guilty Of, Is Done By Us, As Individuals, In Private.