The Machine Yes The Machine Never Wastes

There Have Been As Many Varieties Of Socialists As There Are Wild Birds That Fly In The Woods And Sometimes Go Up And On Through The Clouds.

Men Of Ideas Vanish When Freedom Vanishes.

Poetry Is An Art Practiced With The Terribly Plastic Material Of Human Language.

Poetry Is Any Page From A Sketchbook Of Outlines Of A Doorknob With Thumb-prints Of Dust, Blood, Dreams.

There Is Only One Child In The World And The Child’s Name Is All Children.