Possibility Was Not A Bag Or Box

I Inhabited A Territory Of Loneliness Which Resembles The Place Where The Dying Spend Their Time Before Death, And From Where Those Who Do Return, Living, To The World Bring, Inevitably, A Unique Point Of View That Is A Nightmare, A Treasure, And A Lifelong Possession.[it Is] Equal In Its Rapture And Chilling Exposure [to] The Neighbourhood Of The Ancient Gods And Goddesses.

They Think I'm Going To Be A Schoolteacher But I'm Going To Be A Poet.

We Could Think Or Feel As We Wished Toward The Characters, Or As The Poet, Discounting History, Invited Us To; We Were The Poet's Guest, His World Was His Own Kingdom, Reached, As One Of The Poems Told Us, Through The 'ring Of Words.

The Idea Was To Have A Basin Inverted On His Head And His Hair Cut To The Shape Of It. Skill And Money Were Not Needed. Then The Idea Grew That It Was More Convenient To Leave The Basin On His Head. Stray Thoughts Were Trimmed Along With Stray Hair; Brain-vines, Tentacles Of Thought, Were Not Encouraged To Wander. Then, In The Interests Of Human Economy, The Head Of Adaptable Man Became A Basin Of Uniform Shape—a Basin, A Crash Helmet. Safe At Last; No More Thought-cuts.

I Have Discovered That My Freedom Is Within Me, And Nothing Can Destroy It.