Boys Dream Of Native Girls Who Bring

On Me Your Voice Falls As They Say Love Should, Like An Enormous Yes.

To Put One Brick Upon Another, Add A Third, And Then A Fourth, Leaves No Time To Wonder Whether What You Do Has Any Worth.

One Of The Great Criticisms Of Poets Of The Past Is That They Said One Thing And Did Another.

The Way The Moon Dashes Through Clouds That Blow Loosely As Cannon-smoke... Is A Reminder Of The Strength And Pain Of Being Young; That It Can't Come Again, But Is For Others Undiminished Somewhere.

Death: The Anaesthetic From Which None Come Round.