Polyphonic Prose Is A Kind Of Free

All Recurring Joy Is Pain Refined.

Happiness: We Rarely Feel It. I Would Buy It, Beg It, Steal It, Pay In Coins Of Dripping Blood For This One Transcendent Good.

Poetry, Far More Than Fiction, Reveals The Soul Of Humanity.

Only Those Of Our Poets Who Kept Solidly To The Shakespearean Tradition Achieved Any Measure Of Success. But Keats Was The Last Great Exponent Of That Tradition, And We All Know How Thin, How Lacking In Charm, The Copies Of Keats Have Become.

Youth Condemns; Maturity Condones