Because, To Despise Money, One Must Have

Remember, Writing Poetry Is Like Making Love: One Will Never Know Whether One's Own Pleasure Is Shared.

It Is Not That The Child Lives In A World Of Imagination, But That The Child Within Us Survives And Starts Into Life Only At Rare Moments Of Recollection, Which Makes Us Believe, And It Is Not True, That, As Children, We Were Imaginative?

Why So Much Innuendo, Draped Like Ivy To Hide A Cesspool, When Everyone Knew The Cesspool Was There?

Misfortunes Cannot Suffice To Make A Fool Into An Intelligent Man.

Perfect Behaviour Is Born Of Complete Indifference.