A Man Who Can Be

We Cannot Live, Suffer Or Die For Somebody Else, For Suffering Is Too Precious To Be Shared.

Genius, Like Truth, Has A Shabby And Neglected Mien.

Look At This Poet William Carlos Williams: He Is Primitive And Native, And His Roots Are In Raw Forest And Violent Places; He Is Word-sick And Place-crazy. He Admires Strength, But For What? Violence! This Is The Cult Of The Frontier Mind.

The Bad Poet Is A Toady Mimicking Nature.

I Would Rather Take Hellebore Than Spend A Conversation With A Good, Little Man.