The Fabric Of Existence Weaves Itself Whole.

If Idioms Are More To Be Born Than To Be Selected, Then The Things Of Life And Human Nature That A Man Has Grown Up With--(not That One Man's Experience Is Better Than Another's, But That It Is 'his.')--may Give Him Something Better In His Substance And Manner Than An Over-long Period Of Superimposed Idiomatic Education Which Quite Likely Doesn't Fit His Constitution. My Father Used To Say, 'if A Poet Knows More About A Horse Than He Does About Heaven, He Might Better Stick To The Horse, And Some Day The Horse May Carry Him Into Heaven'

Expression, To A Great Extent, Is A Matter Of Terms, And Terms Are Anyone's.

All Melodious Poets Shall Be Hoarse As Street Ballads, When Once The Penetrating Keynote Of Nature And Spirit Is Sounded-the Earth-beat, Sea-beat, Heart-beat, Which Make The Tune To Which The Sun Rolls, And The Globule Of Blood And The Sap Of The Trees.

A Song Has A Few Rights The Same As Ordinary Citizens... If It Happens To Feel Like Flying Where Humans Cannot Fly... To Scale Mountains That Are Not There, Who Shall Stop It?

It Is Conceivable That What Is Unified Form To The Author Or Composer May Of Necessity Be Formless To His Audience.