The Greatest Cunning Is To Have None

Poetry Is A Plan For A Slit In The Face Of A Bronze Fountain Goat And The Path Of Fresh Drinking Water.

Time Is A Sandpile We Run Our Fingers In.

A Man May Be Born, But In Order To Be Born He Must First Die, And In Order To Die He Must First Awake.

Time Is A Great Teacher, Who Can Live Without Hope?

And Those Who Say, "i'll Try Anything Once," Often Try Nothing Twice, Three Times, Arriving Late At The Gate Of Dreams Worth Dying For.