Any Work Of Art Must First Of

All There Is To Writing Is Having Ideas. To Learn To Write Is To Learn To Have Ideas.

A Bird Half Wakened In The Lunar Noon Sang Halfway Through Its Little Inborn Tune.

If The Day Ever Comes When They Know Who They Are, They May Know Better Where They Are.

I Do Not See Why I Should E’er Turn Back, Or Those Should Not Set Forth Upon My Track To Overtake Me, Who Should Miss Me Here And Long To Know If Still I Held Them Dear. They Would Not Find Me Changed From Him They Knew — Only More Sure Of All I Thought Was True.

Leaves And Bark, Leaves And Bark, To Lean Against And Hear In The Dark. Petals I May Have Once Pursued. Leaves Are All My Darker Mood.