Composing Mortals With Immortal Fire.

There Are Bills To Be Paid, Machines To Keep In Repair, Irregular Verbs To Learn, The Time Being To Redeem From Insignificance.

Without Art, We Should Have No Notion Of The Sacred; Without Science, We Should Always Worship False Gods.

Great Art Is Clear Thinking About Mixed Feelings.

The Class Distinctions Proper To A Democratic Society Are Not Those Of Rank Or Money, Still Less, As Is Apt To Happen When These Are Abandoned, Of Race, But Of Age.

A Poet's Hope: To Be, Like Some Valley Cheese, Local, But Prized Elsewhere.