The Heavy Red Roses Smoldering In The

No, I Don't Admire The Genius. But I Admire And Love The Result Of The Genius's Activity In The World, Of Which The Great Man Is Only The Poor Necessary Tool, Only, So To Speak, The Paltry Awl To Bore With.

Heaven Knows That There Are Plenty Of Opportunities In Later Life, Too, For Being Carried Away. What Of It? We Remain What We Are And, No Doubt, It Is All Very Good For Us!

No, What I Should Really Like To Do Right Now, In The Full Blaze Of Lights, Before This Illustrious Assembly, Is To Shower Every One Of You With Gifts, With Flowers, With Offerings Of Poetry - To Be Young Once More, To Ride On The Crest Of The Wave.

Truth Is Neither Ojectivity Nor The Balanced View; Truth Is A Selfless Subjectivity.

A Word Can Be Transformed Into A Coulour, Light, A Smell; It Is The Writer's Task To Use It In Such A Way That It Serves, Never Fails, Can Never Be Ignored.