One Keeps Forgetting Old Age Up To

One Keeps Forgetting Old Age Up To The Very Brink Of The Grave.

I Love My Past, I Love My Present. I Am Not Ashamed Of What I Have Had, And I Am Not Sad Because I No Longer Have It.

In Its Early Stages, Insomnia Is Almost An Oasis In Which Those Who Have To Think Or Suffer Darkly Take Refuge.

To A Poet, Silence Is An Acceptable Response, Even A Flattering One.

Books, Books, Books. It Was Not That I Read So Much. I Read And Re-read The Same Ones. But All Of Them Were Necessary To Me. Their Presence, Their Smell, The Letters Of Their Titles, And The Texture Of Their Leather Bindings.