If Anything Might Hurt Her, Silence Would;

I Knew Words Were Like Chains, They Held Me Back . . . The Act Of Description Taints The Description.

We Lay On The Ground And Kissed. Perhaps You Smile. That We Only Lay On The Ground And Kissed. You Young People Can Lend Your Bodies Now, Play With Them, Give Them As We Could Not. But Remember That You Have Paid A Price: That Of A World Rich In Mystery And Delicate Emotion. It Is Not Only Species Of Animal That Die Out. But Whole Species Of Feeling. And If You Are Wise You Will Never Pity The Past For What It Did Not Know. But Pity Yourself For What It Did.

They Looked Down On Her; And She Looked Up Through Them.

You're Not Me. You Can't Feel Like I Feel." "i Can Feel." "no You Can't. You Just Choose Not To Feel Or Something And Everything's Fine." "it's Not Fine. It's Just Not So Bad.

We All Write Poems; It Is Simply That Poets Are The Ones Who Write In Words.