As Contagion Of Sickness Makes Sickness, Contagion

... We Do Not Admire What We Cannot Understand.

The Prey Of Fear, He, Always Curtailed, Extinguished, Thwarted By The Dusk, Work Partly Done, Says To The Alternating Blaze, "again The Sun! Anew Each Day; And New And New And New, That Comes Into And Steadies My Soul."

Poetry ... ... A Place For The Genuine, Hands That Can Grasp, Eyes That Can Dilate, Hair That Can Rise

Which Of Us Has Not Been Stunned By The Beauty Of An Animal's Skin Or Its Flexibility In Motion?

Poetry Is All Nouns And Verbs.