We Love The Things We Love For

I Would Not Come In. I Meant Not Even If Asked, And I Hadn't Been.

Poetry Is What Is Lost In Translation. It Is Also What Is Lost In Interpretation.

They Cannot Scare Me With Their Empty Spaces Between Stars—on Stars Where No Human Race Is. I Have It In Me So Much Nearer Home To Scare Myself With My Own Desert Places.

We Love The Things We Love For What They Are.

Forgive Me My Nonsense, As I Also Forgive The Nonsense Of Those That Think They Talk Sense.