The Fog Comes On Little Cat Feet.

Give Me Hunger, Pain And Want, Shut Me Out With Shame And Failure From Your Doors Of Gold And Fame, Give Me Your Shabbiest, Weariest Hunger! But Leave Me A Little Love.

I Couldn't See Myself Filling Some Definite Niche In What Is Called A Career. This Was All Misty.

The Dead Hold In Their Hands Only What They Have Given Away.

A Book Is Never A Masterpiece: It Becomes One. Genius Is The Talent Of A Dead Man.

The Sea Is Always The Same: And Yet The Sea Always Changes.