Poetry Is Ordinary Language Raised To The

Human Life Is Too Difficult For People.

But Maybe It's Up The Hills Or Under The Leaves Or In A Ditch Somewhere. Maybe It's Never Found. But What You Find, Whatever You Find, Is Only Part Of The Missing, And Writing Is The Way The Poet Finds Out What It Is He Found.

I Wanted To Write Poetry Almost A Little More Than I Wanted To Eat.

I Knew About Holiness, Never Having Missed A Sunday-school Class Since I Started At Four Years. But If Jews Were Also Religious, How Could Our Neighbor With The Grease-grimy Shirt Use The Word 'damn' About Them?

All Families Had Their Special Christmas Food. Ours Was Called Dutch Bread, Made From A Dough Halfway Between Bread And Cake, Stuffed With Citron And Every Sort Of Nut From The Farm - Hazel, Black Walnut, Hickory, Butternut.