The Rats Are Underneath The Piles/ The

Men Live By Forgetting And Woman Live On Memories.

The Bad Poet Is Usually Unconscious Where He Ought To Be Conscious, And Conscious Where He Ought To Be Unconscious.

The Naming Of Cats Is A Difficult Matter

In Spite Of All The Dishonour, The Broken Standards, The Broken Lives, The Broken Faith In One Place Or Another, There Was Something Left That Was More Than The Tales Of Old Men On Winter Evenings.

The Eastern Light Our Spires Touch At Morning, The Light That Slants Upon Our Western Doors At Evening, The Twilight Over Stagnant Pools At Batflight, Moon Light And Star Light, Owl And Moth Light, Glow-worm Glowlight On A Grassblade. O Light Invisible, We Worship Thee!