But The More Poetry One Reads The

To Be Alive And To Be A ‘writer’ Is Enough.

Looking Back, I Imagine I Was Always Writing. Twaddle It Was Too. But Better Far Write Twaddle Or Anything, Anything, Than Nothing At All.

Whatever Happens I Have Had These Blissful, Perfect Moments And They Are Worth Living For.

The Late Evening Is The Time Of Times. Then With That Unearthly Beauty Before One It Is Not Hard To Realise How Far One Has To Go. To Write Something That Will Be Worthy Of That Rising Moon, That Pale Light.

Why It Should Be Such An Effort To Write To The People One Loves I Can't Imagine. It's None At All To Write To Those Who Don't Really Count.