Poetry, That Is To Say The Poetic,

We Are Suffering From Too Much Sarcasm.

Originality Is... A By-product Of Sincerity.

The Sea Is A Collector, Quick To Return A Rapacious Look.

There Is A Great Amount Of Poetry In Unconscious Fastidiousness.

The Ocean, Under The Pulsation Of Lighthouses And Noise Of Bell Buoys, Advances As Usual, Looking As If It Were Not That Ocean In Which Dropped Things Are Bound To Sink-- In Which If They Turn And Twist, It Is Neither With Volition Nor Consciousness.