If Society Fits You Comfortably Enough, You

A Poem Begins As A Lump In The Throat, A Sense Of Wrong, A Homesickness, A Lovesickness.

It Was Far In The Sameness Of The Wood; I Was Running With Joy On The Demon's Trail, Though I Knew What I Hunted Was No True God.

Style Is Less The Man Than The Way A Man Takes Himself.

The Worst Disease Which Can Afflict Executives In Their Work Is Not, As Popularly Supposed, Alcoholism; It's Egotism.

They Would Not Find Me Changed From Him They Knew - Only More Sure Of All I Thought Was True.