The Goal Is The Same: Life Itself;

Seems As Unfounded ... To Say There Isn't A God As To Say There Is.

I Suspect The Fault...is In Me: That I Hate Any Job On Earth, As A Job And A Hindrance And A Semi-suicide.

It Is Probably Well On The Conservative Side To Estimate That During The Past Ten To Fifteen Years The Camera Has Destroyed A Thousand Pairs Of Eyes, Corrupted Ten Thousand, And Seriously Deceived A Hundred Thousand, For Every One Pair That It Has Opened, And Taught.

For In The Immediate World, Everything Is To Be Discerned, For Him Who Can Discern It, And Central And Simply, Without Either Dissection Into Science, Or Digestion Into Art, But With The Whole Of Consciousness, Seeking To Perceive It As It Stands: So That The Aspect Of A Street In Sunlight Can Roar In The Heart Of Itself As A Symphony, Perhaps As No Symphony Can: And All Of Consciousness Is Shifted From The Imagined, The Revisive, To The Effort To Perceive Simply The Cruel Radiation Of What Is.

One Thing I Feel Is This: That A Great Deal Of Poetry Is The Product Of Adolescence-or Of An Emotionally Adolescent Frame Of Mind: And That As This State Of Mind Changes, Poetry Is Likely To Dry Up.