Poetry Is A Sleep-maker For That Which

Poetry Brings All Possible Experience To The Same Degree: A Degree In The Consciousness Beyond Which The Consciousness Itself Cannot Go.

Evil I Had Never Found Satisfactorily Placeable As An Integral Element Of The Universal, Or Total, Content Of Existence. Indeed, Evil Is Evil Just Because There Is No Logical Place For It, No Room In Reality For It. It Is Unreal, And Yet Real As Something Unreal.

Polygamy And Polyandry Distribute The Frightening Physical Solidarity Of Monogamy. Monogamous Couples Are Always Hungry For Company: To Dilute Sex.

Every Woman Must Live By Some Sense Of Victory Over Disappointments, And Olympias Was Not The Sort Of Woman To Find Compensation In Her Own Powers Of Self-control And Endurance.

The Rhythmic Pattern Of The Poem, Which Forces Continuity Of Attention - Incites A Pleasurable Compulsion To 'follow' - Is Either A Tried Metrical Suasion-contrivance Or A Specially Invented Pattern Of Physical Insistences, Equally, If Not More, Binding In Its Effect On The Reader. From A Straight Linguistic Point Of View, There Is Room For Wonder If There Is Not Latent Vice In This Environment In Which Pleasurable Physically-compelled Responses, Produced By Incidents Of Poetic Utterance, Are Identified With The Good.