Seizing The Swift Logic Of A Woman,

Poets And Kings Are But The Clerks Of Time, Tiering The Same Dull Webs Of Discontent, Clipping The Same Sad Alnage Of The Years.

Language That Tells Us, Through A More Or Less Emotional Reaction, Something That Can Not Be Said.

I Have Been Reading The Old Testament, A Most Bloodthirsty And Perilous Book For The Young. Jehovah Is Beyond Doubt The Worst Character In Fiction.

Two Kinds Of Gratitude: The Sudden Kind We Feel For What We Take; The Larger Kind We Feel For What We Give.

No Matter What We Are, And What We Sing, Time Finds A Withered Leaf In Every Laurel