Your Mind And You Are Our Sargasso

The Thought Of What America Would Be Like If The Classics Had A Wide Circulation Troubles My Sleep (cantico Del Sole)

In Our Time, The Curse Is Monetary Illiteracy, Just As Inability To Read Plain Print Was The Curse Of Earlier Centuries.

The Man Who Fears War And Squats Opposing My Words For Stour, Hath No Blood Of Crimson But Is Fit Only To Rot In Womanish Peace

Rhythm Is Form Cut Into Time.

I Have Tried To Write Paradise Do Not Move Let The Wind Speak That Is Paradise. Let The Gods Forgive What I Have Made Let Those I Love Try To Forgive What I Have Made.