The World Is Charged With The Grandeur

And The Headbonny Ash That Sits Over The Burn. What Would The World Be, Once Bereft Of Wet And Of Wildness? Let Them Be Left, O Let Them Be Left, Wildness And Wet: Long Live The Weeds And The Wilderness Yet.

Give Beauty Back, Beauty, Beauty, Beauty, Back To God, Beauty's Self And Beauty's Giver.

I Always Knew In My Heart Walt Whitman's Mind To Be More Like My Own Than Any Other Man's Living.

Searching Nature I Taste Self But At One Tankard, That Of My Own Being.

I Do Not Write For The Public. You Are My Public And I Hope To Convert You.