What Is Poetry Which Does Not Save

Men Will Clutch At Illusions When They Have Nothing Else To Hold To.

Consciousness Even In My Sleep Changes Primary Colors. The Features Of My Face Melt Like A Wax Doll In The Fire. And Who Can Consent To See In The Mirror The Mere Face Of Man?

Only A White-haired Old Man, Who Would Be A Prophet Yet Is Not A Prophet, For He's Much Too Busy, Repeats While He Binds His Tomatoes: No Other End Of The World Will There Be, No Other End Of The World Will There Be.

The Voice Of Passion Is Better Than The Voice Of Reason. The Passionless Cannot Change History.

Be Young Forever, Seasons Of The Earth.