There Is No Past Or Future. Using

They Think I'm Going To Be A Schoolteacher But I'm Going To Be A Poet.

But It Is Imperative, For Our Own Survival, That We Avoiid One Another, And What More Successful Means Of Avoidance Are There Than Words? Language Will Keep Us Safe From Human Onslaught, Will Express For Us Our Regret At Being Unable To Supply Groceries Or Love Or Peace.

We Could Think Or Feel As We Wished Toward The Characters, Or As The Poet, Discounting History, Invited Us To; We Were The Poet's Guest, His World Was His Own Kingdom, Reached, As One Of The Poems Told Us, Through The 'ring Of Words.

When Our Thoughts Revolve We Are So Often Deceived Into Supposing That Their Violent Movement Is An Indication Of Their Vigorous Originality, The Upheaval Of Prejudice And Fixed Ideas, When All The Time It Is More Likely That The Machine Which Contains Them Is Only An Elaborate Cement-mixer, And When The Thinking Is Finished, Those Whirling Thoughts Are Smoothed Into The Unchanged Conventional Mould And Seeing Them Set Solid Enough To Dance, To Build, To Travel Upon, We Would Never Dream Of Their First Deceit, Of The Hope Once Roused By Their Apparently Violent Reorganisation.

I Have Discovered That My Freedom Is Within Me, And Nothing Can Destroy It.