Today I Am Altogether Without Ambition. Where

Love Yourself. Then Forget It. Then, Love The World.

I Go Down To The Shore I Go Down To The Shore In The Morning And Depending On The Hour The Waves Are Rolling In Or Moving Out, And I Say, Oh, I Am Miserable, What Shall— What Should I Do? And The Sea Says In Its Lovely Voice: Excuse Me, I Have Work To Do.

One Thing I Do Know Is That Poetry, To Be Understood, Must Be Clear.

Things Take The Time They Take. Don't Worry. How Many Roads Did St. Augustine Follow Before He Became St. Augustine?

I Feel The Terror Of Idleness, Like A Red Thirst. Death Isn't Just An Idea.