We Are So Conceited And So Unproud.

It Always Seemed To Me That Men Wore Their Beards, Like They Wear Their Neckties, For Show.

Give Up Bearing Children And Bear Hope And Love And Devotion To Those Already Born.

All That We Know Is Nothing, We Are Merely Crammed Wastepaper Baskets, Unless We Are In Touch With That Which Laughs At All Our Knowing.

My Wife Has A Beastly Habit Of Comparing Poetry -- All Literature In Fact -- To The Droppings Of The Goats Among The Rocks -- Mere Excreta That Fertilises The Ground It Falls On.

Let There Be An End ... Of All This Welter Of Pity, Which Is Only Self-pity Reflected Onto Some Obvious Surface.