I Have Often Wished I Had Time

Your Soul: Pure Glucose Edged With Hints Of Tentative And Half-soiled Tints

The Great Sins And Fires Break Out Of Me Like The Terrible Leaves From The Bough In The Violent Spring. I Am A Walking Fire, I Am All Leaves.

The Poet Is The Complete Lover Of Mankind.

I May Say That I Think Greed About Poetry Is The Only Permissible Greed - It Is, Indeed, Unavoidable.

Good Taste Is The Worst Vice Ever Invented.