Talent Imitates, But Genius Steals.

Writing Every Day Is A Way Of Keeping The Engine Running, And Then Something Good May Come Out Of It.

The Single Rose Is Now The Garden Where All Loves End

Turning Wearily, As One Would Turn To Nod Goodbye To Rochefoucauld, If The Street Were Time And He As The End Of The Street.

We Are Not Here To Triumph By Fighting, By Strata Gem, Or By Resistance, Not To Fight With Beasts As Men. We Have Fought The Beast And Have Conquered. We Have Only To Conquer Now, By Suffering. This Is The Easier Victory.

Poetry Is Not An Assertion Of Truth, But The Making Of That Truth More Fully Real To Us.