The Fog Comes On Little Cat Feet.

I Can Remember Only A Few Of The Strange And Curious Words Now Dead But Living And Spoken By The English People A Thousand Years Ago.

Back Of Every Mistaken Venture And Defeat Is The Laughter Of Wisdom, If You Listen.

Lay Me On An Anvil, O God. Beat Me And Hammer Me Into A Steel Spike.

Poetry Is The Cipher Key To The Five Mystic Wishes Packed In A Hollow Silver Bullet Fed To A Flying Fish.

Out Of Great Russia Came Three Dusky Syllables Workmen Took Guns And Went Out To Die For: Bread, Peace, Land.