I Can Offer You Only:

There Is No Such Thing As Freedom (though It Is The Most Important Condition Of Human Life, After Humility, -which Does Not Exist Either). There Is Only Slavery (walls Around One) And Absence-of-slavery (ability To Walk In Any Direction, Or To Remain Still).

I Cry. Evil Dissolves, & Love, Like Foam; That Love. Prattle Of Children Powers Me Home, My Heart Claps Like The Swan's Under A Frenzy Of Who Love Me & Who Shine.

This World Is Gradually Becoming A Place Where I Do Not Care To Be Any More.

I Think That What Happens In My Poetic Work In The Future Will Depend On My Being Knocked In The Face, And Thrown Flat, And Given Cancer, And All Kinds Of Other Things Short Of Senile Dementia.

Praise Will Lead You To Vanity, And Blame Will Lead You To Self-pity, And Both Are Bad For Writers.