I Believe In Teaching, But I Don’t

(soft Petals, Yes, But Not So Barren Quite, Mingled With These, Smooth Bean And Wrinkled Pea;) And Go Along With You Ere You Lose Sight Of What You Came For And Become Like Me, Slave To A Springtime Passion For The Earth. How Love Burns Through The Putting In The Seed On Through The Watching For That Early Birth When, Just As The Soil Tarnishes With Weed, The Sturdy Seedling With Arched Body Comes Shouldering Its Way And Shedding The Earth Crumbs.

I Fail To See What Fun, What Satisfaction / A God Can Find In Laughing At How Badly / Men Fumble At The Possibilities.

If You're Looking For Something To Be Brave About, Consider Fine Arts.

What Is Done Is Done For The Love Of It- Or Not Really Done At All.

One Of The Lies Would Make It Out That Nothing Ever Presents Itself Before Us Twice. Where Would We Be At Last If That Were So? Our Very Life Depends On Everything's Recurring Till We Answer From Within.