It Is Night, And It Is Vanity,

I'm Sure That Writing Isn't A Craft, That Is, Something For Which You Learn The Skills And Go On Turning Out. It Must Come From Some Deep Impulse, Deep Inspiration. That Can't Be Taught, It Can't Be What You Use In Teaching.

It's The Light Of The Oncoming Train.

I Was Overcome With An Attack Of Pathological Enthusiasm.

I Myself Am Hell; Nobody's Here

What Can The Dove Of Jesus Give You Now But Wisdom, Exile? Stand And Live, The Dove Has Brought An Olive Branch To Eat.