Truth-loving Persians Do Not Dwell Upon The

The Difference Between Prose Logic And Poetic Thought Is Simple. The Logician Uses Words As A Builder Uses Bricks, For The Unemotional Deadness Of His Academic Prose; And Is Always Coining Newer, Deader Words With A Natural Preference For Greek Formations. The Poet Avoids The Entire Vocabulary Of Logic Unless For Satiric Purposes, And Treats Words As Living Creatures With A Preference For Those With Long Emotional Histories Dating From Mediaeval Times. Poetry At Its Purest Is, Indeed, A Defiance Of Logic.

Strawberries That In Gardens Grow Are Plump And Juicy Fine, But Sweeter Far As Wise Men Know Spring From The Woodland Vine. No Need For Bowl Or Silver Spoon, Sugar Or Spice Or Cream, Has The Wild Berry Plucked In June Beside The Trickling Stream. One Such To Melt At The Tongue's Root, Confounding Taste With Scent, Beats A Full Peck Of Garden Fruit: Which Points My Argument.

Kill If You Must, But Never Hate: Man Is But Grass And Hate Is Blight, The Sun Will Scorch You Soon Or Late, Die Wholesome Then, Since You Must Fight

Genius Not Only Diagnoses The Situation But Supplies The Answers.

Love Without Hope, As When The Young Bird-catcher Swept Off His Tall Hat To The Squire's Own Daughter, So Let The Imprisoned Larks Escape And Fly Singing About Her Head, As She Rode By.