I Look And Look, / As Though

Children Know From A Remarkably Early Age That Things Are Being Kept From Them, That Grown-ups Participate In A World Of Mysteries.

I Look And Look, / As Though I Could Be Saved Simply By Looking

If The Heart Has Its Reasons, Perhaps The Body Has Its Own Lumbering Sort Of Carnal Spirit, Felt In The Tingling Bruises Of Collision, And Known To Captains As Esprit De Corps.

There's Not A Good Poet I Know Who Has Not At The Beck And Call Of His Memory A Vast Quantity Of Poetry That Composes His Mental Library.

Merely To Have Survived Is Not An Index Of Excellence.