It's Always Our Touches Of Vanity That

Poetry Is The Language In Which Man Explores His Own Amazement... Says Heaven And Earth In One Word... Speaks Of Himself And His Predicament As Though For The First Time.

The Lines Marking A Penalty Area Are A Disgrace To The Playing Fields Of A Public School.

How Can We Be Scrupulous In A Life Which, From Birth Onwards, Is So Determined To Wring Us Dry Of Any Serenity At All?

Day's Work Is Still To Do, Whatever The Day's Doom.

Between Our Birth And Death We May Touch Understanding, As A Moth Brushes A Window With Its Wing