A Dead Man Who Never

In Times Of Joy, All Of Us Wished We Possessed A Tail We Could Wag.

All Poets Adore Explosions, Thunderstorms, Tornadoes, Conflagrations, Ruins, Scenes Of Spectacular Carnage. The Poetic Imagination Is Not At All A Desirable Quality In A Statesman.

Money Cannot Buy The Fuel Of Love But Is Excellent Kindling.

Hunger Allows No Choice.

You Shall Love Your Crooked Neighbour, With Your Crooked Heart.