A Poet Can't Afford To Be Aloof.

There Is No Other Way To Find Ourselves But In Each Others Faces.

No Map To Help Us Find The Tranquil Flat Lands, Clearings Calm, Fields Without Mean Fences. Rolling Down The Other Side Of Life Our Compass Is The Sureness Of Ourselves. Time May Make Us Rugged, Ragged Round The Edges, But Know And Understand That Love Is Still The Safest Place To Land.

The World Needs Writers. We Will Always Be Necessary. There Are Few Professions That Can Claim That Distinction.

We Come Into The World Alone. We Go Away The Same. We're Meant To Spend The Interlude Between In Closeness Or So We Tell Ourselves. But It's A Long Way From The Morning To The Evening.

It Happens Just Because We Need To Want And To Be Wanted Too, When Love Is Here Or Gone To Lie Down In The Darkness And Listen To The Warm.