Omissions Are Not Accidents.

What Is Our Innocence, What Is Our Guilt? All Are Naked, None Is Safe.

I, Too, Dislike It. Reading It, However, With A Perfect Contempt For It, One Discovers In It, After All, A Place For The Genuine.

... Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads In Them ... ... If You Demand On One Hand, The Raw Material Of Poetry In All Its Rawness And That Which Is On The Other Hand Genuine, Then You Are Interested In Poetry.

Originality Is... A By-product Of Sincerity.

We Are What We Were At Birth, And Each Trait Has Remained In Conformity With Earth's And With Heaven's Logic: Be The Devil's Tool, Resort To Black Magic, None Can Diverge From The Ends Which Heaven Foreordained.