It Is As Unseeing To Ask What

The Poet Speaks To All Men Of That Other Life Of Theirs That They Have Smothered And Forgotten.

The Arts Are Life Accelerated And Concentrated.

The Trouble With Most Englishwomen Is That They Will Dress As If They Had Been A Mouse In A Previous Incarnation... They Do Not Want To Attract Attention.

My Poems Are Hymns Of Praise To The Glory Of Life.

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.