The Real America That Whitman Proclaimed And

The Fact To Which We Have Got To Cling, As To A Lifebelt, Is That It Is Possible To Be A Normal Decent Person And Yet Be Fully Alive.

To Gain Your Own Voice You Have To Forget About Having It Heard.

My Books Piled Up Before Me For My Use Waiting In Space Where I Placed Them, They Haven't Disappeared, Time's Left Its Remnants And Qualities For Me To Use -- My Words Piled Up, My Texts, My Manuscripts, My Loves.

The Suffering Itself Is Not So Bad; It's The Resentment Against Suffering That Is The Real Pain.

America, How Can I Write A Holy Litany In Your Silly Mood?