Liberty Is Not A Right But A

Fit For Kings, Formal Gardens Afford An Earthly Elysium And The Odd Impression That We Mere Men Might Actually Control Nature For A Time.

Poetry Is A Language Pared Down To Its Essentials.

The Apparition Of These Faces In The Crowd; Petals On A Wet Black Bough.

Anyone Who Is Too Lazy To Master The Comparatively Small Glossary Necessary To Understand Chaucer Deserves To Be Shut Out From The Reading Of Good Books Forever.

The Author's Conviction On This Day Of New Year Is That Music Begins To Atrophy When It Departs Too Far From The Dance; That Poetry Begins To Atrophy When It Gets Too Far From Music; But This Must Not Be Taken As Implying That All Good Music Is Dance Music Or All Poetry Lyric. Bach And Mozart Are Never Too Far From Physical Movement.