Still, Vicious Or Virtuous, Love Suits Most

One Of The Great Criticisms Of Poets Of The Past Is That They Said One Thing And Did Another.

Parting Is A Training Streamer,lingering Like Leaves In Autumn.

All The Unhurried Day / Your Mind Lay Open Like A Drawer Of Knives.

I Listen To Money Singing, It's Like Looking Down From Long French Windows At A Provincial Town. The Slums, The Canal, The Churches Ornate And Mad In The Evening Sun. It Is Intensely Sad.

No One Can Tear Your Thread Out Of Himself. No One Can Tie You Down Or Set You Free.