Talent Imitates, Genius Steals.

Time Past And Time Future What Might Have Been And What Has Been Point To One End, Which Is Always Present.

Love Is Most Nearly Itself When Here And Now Cease To Matter. Old Men Ought To Be Explorers Here Or There Does Not Matter We Must Be Still And Still Moving Into Another Intensity For A Further Union, A Deeper Communion Through The Dark Cold And The Empty Desolation, The Wave Cry, The Wind Cry, The Vast Waters Of The Petrel And The Porpoise.

Shall I Part My Hair Behind Do I Dare To Eat A Peach I Shall Wear White Flannel Trousers, And Walk Upon The Beach. I Have Heard The Mermaids Singing, Each To Each. I Do Not Think That They Will Sing To Me.

I Grow Old … I Grow Old … I Shall Wear The Bottoms Of My Trousers Rolled.

Uncorseted, Her Friendly Bust Gives Promise Of Pneumatic Bliss.