Life Is First Boredom, Then Fear. Whether

Living In England Has No Such Excuse: These Are My Customs And Establishments.

One Of The Great Criticisms Of Poets Of The Past Is That They Said One Thing And Did Another.

I Am Beginning To Think Of The Human Imagination As A Fruit Machine On Which Victories Are Rare And Separated By Much Vain Expense, And Represent A Rare Alignment Of Mental And Spiritual Qualities That Normally Are Quite At Odds.

My Age Fallen Away Like White Swaddling Floats In The Middle Distance, Becomes An Inhabited Cloud.

Give Me A Thrill, Says The Reader, Give Me A Kick; I Don't Care How You Succeed, Or What Subject You Pick.