The Terrible Beast, That No One May

It Is Not Possible, For A Poet, Writing In Any Language, To Protect Himself From The Tragic Elements In Human Life.... [ellipsis In Source] Illness, Old Age, And Death--subjects As Ancient As Humanity--these Are The Subjects That The Poet Must Speak Of Very Nearly From The First Moment That He Begins To Speak.

It Is Through The Acceptance Of A Variety Of Aethetic And Intellectual Points Of View That A Culture Is Given Breadth And Density.

All Art, In Spite Of The Struggles Of Some Critics To Prove Otherwise, Is Based On Emotion And Projects Emotion.

Song, Like A Wing, Tears Through My Breast, My Side, And Madness Chooses Out My Voice Again, Again.

What We Suffer, What We Endure, What We Muff, What We Kill, What We Miss, What We Are Guilty Of, Is Done By Us, As Individuals, In Private.