Time Is The Coin Of Life. Only

Whenever A People Or An Institution Forget Its Hard Beginnings, It Is Beginning To Decay.

Time Is A Great Teacher, Who Can Live Without Hope?

And All Poets Love Dust And Mist Because All The Last Answers. Go Running Back To Dust And Mist.

History Is A Living Horse Laughing At A Wooden Horse. History Is A Wind Blowing Where It Listeth. History Is No Sure Thing To Bet On. History Is A Box Of Tricks With A Lost Key. History Is A Labyrinth Of Doors With Sliding Panels, A Book Of Ciphers With The Code In A Cave Of The Saragossa Sea. History Says, If It Pleases, Excuse Me, I Beg Your Pardon, It Will Never Happen Again If I Can Help It.

I Wrote Poems In My Corner Of The Brooks Street Station. I Sent Them To Two Editors Who Rejected Them Right Off. I Read Those Letters Of Rejection Years Later And I Agreed With Those Editors.