Geniuses Were Like Storms Or Cyclones, Pulling

We Americans, With Our Terrific Emphasis On Youth, Action, And Material Success, Certainly Tend To Belittle The Afternoon Of Life And Even To Pretend It Never Comes. We Push The Clock Back And Try To Prolong The Morning, Over-reaching And Over-straining Ourselves In The Unnatural Effort. ... In Our Breathless Attempts We Often Miss The Flowering That Waits For Afternoon.

When I Cannot Write A Poem, I Bake Biscuits And Feel Just As Pleased.

The Present Is Passed Over In The Race For The Future; The Here Is Neglected In Favor Of The There. Enjoy The Moment, Even If It Means Merely A Walk In The Country.

To Me There Is Something Completely And Satisfyingly Restful In That Stretch Of Sea And Sand, Sea And Sand And Sky - Complete Peace, Complete Fulfillment.

I Feel I Should Not Be ... So At The Mercy Of People's Regard. And Yet - It Is The Artist's Desire For Communication Too; Without The Answering Voice You Get So Numb; You Lose Faith In Your Powers To Communicate.