Wake The Happy Words.

I Am Overwhelmed By The Beautiful Disorder Of Poetry, The Eternal Virginity Of Words.

What Is Madness But Nobility Of Soul At Odds With Circumstance?

The Darkness Has It's Own Light.

What's Important? That Which Is Dug Out Of Books, Or Out Of The Guts?

What's Madness But Nobility Of Soul At Odds With Circumstance? The Day's On Fire! I Know The Purity Of Pure Despair, My Shadow Pinned Against A Sweating Wall, That Place Among The Rocks--is It A Cave, Or Winding Path? The Edge Is What I Have........ ....... Dark,dark My Light, And Darker My Desire. My Soul, Like Some Heat-maddened Summer Fly, Keeps Buzzing At The Sill. ~from "the Waking" By Theodore Roethke