Of The Things Men Give Each Other

Love's The Only Thing I've Thought Of Or Read About Since I Was Knee-high. That's What I Always Dreamed Of, Of Meeting Somebody And Falling In Love. And When That Remarkable Thing Happened, I Was Going To Recite Poetry To Her For Hours About How Her Heart's An Angel's Wing And Her Hair The Strings Of A Heavenly Harp. Instead I Got Drunk And Hollered At Her And Called Her A Harpy.

I'll Tell You A Secret. We Live In A Mad And Inspiring World.

Criticism Can Never Instruct Or Benefit You. Its Chief Effect Is That Of A Telegram With Dubious News. Praise Leaves No Glow Behind, For It Is A Writer's Habit To Remember Nothing Good Of Himself. I Have Usually Forgotten Those Who Have Admired My Work, And Seldom Anyone Who Disliked It. Obviously, This Is Because Praise Is Never Enough And Censure Always Too Much.

I Have Written A Raucous Valentine To A Poet's Dream And Agony.

I See A Lot Of Fog And A Few Lights. I Like It When Life's Hidden. It Gives You A Chance To Imagine Nice Things, Nicer Than They Are.