There Is No Justice We Don't Make

Where I Came From, The Nights I Had Wandered And Survived Scared Them, And Where I Would Go They Never Imagined.

My Idea Of Hell Is To Be Young Again.

The Mind Wraps Itself Around A Poem. It Is Almost Sensual, Particularly If You Work On A Computer. You Can Turn The Poem Round And About And Upside Down, Dancing With It A Kind Of Bolero Of Two Snakes Twisting And Coiling, Until The Poem Has Found Its Right And Proper Shape.

The Will To Be Totally Rational Is The Will To Be Made Out Of Glass And Steel: And To Use Others As If They Were Glass And Steel.

Life Is The First Gift, Love Is The Second, And Understanding The Third.