Poetry Is A Mock Of A Cry

The Fog Comes On Little Cat Feet.

I Have Often Wondered What It Is An Old Building Can Do To You When You Happen To Know A Little About Things That Went On Long Ago In That Building.

Poetry Is A Diary Kept By A Sea Creature Who Lives On Land And Wishes He Could Fly.

Beware Of Advice-even This.

A Book Is Never A Masterpiece: It Becomes One. Genius Is The Talent Of A Dead Man.