Suppose Life Is An Old Man Carrying

My Mother Hoped That I Would Die Etcetera Bravely Of Course My Father Used To Become Hoarse Talking About How It Was A Privilege And If Only He Could

...sunlight Is (life And Day Are)only Loaned:whereas Night Is Given(night And Death And The Rain Are Given;and Given Is How Beautifully Snow)

As Small As A World As Large As Alone.

If At The End Of Your First Ten Or Fifteen Years Of Fighting And Working And Feeling, You Find You've Written One Line Of One Poem, You'll Be Very Lucky Indeed.

That Which We Die For Lives As Wholly As That Which We Live For Dies.