Nobody Was Ever Meant, To Remember Or

We Disparage Reason. But All The Time It's What We're Most Concerned With. There's Will As Motor And There's Will As Brakes. Reason Is, I Suppose, The Steering Gear.

There Are Three Things, After All, That A Poem Must Reach: The Eye, The Ear, And What We May Call The Heart Or The Mind. It Is The Most Important Of All To Reach The Heart Of The Reader.

The Mind-is Not The Heart. I May Yet Live, As I Know Others Live, To Wish In Vain To Let Go With The Mind- Of Cares, At Night, To Sleep; But Nothing Tells Me That I Need Learn To Let Go With The Heart.

A Poet Never Takes Notes. You Never Take Notes In A Love Affair.

Friends Make Pretence Of Following To The Grave But Before One Is In It, Their Minds Are Turned And Making The Best Of Their Way Back To Life And Living People And Things They Understand.