A Writer Can Have Only

No One Can Tear Your Thread Out Of Himself. No One Can Tie You Down Or Set You Free.

You Can't Put Off Being Young Until You Retire.

Here Silence Stands Like Heat. Here Leaves Unnoticed Thicken, Hidden Weeds Flower, Neglected Waters Quicken, Luminously-peopled Air Ascends; And Past The Poppies Bluish Neutral Distance Ends The Land Suddenly Beyond A Beach Of Shapes And Shingle. Here Is Unfenced Existence: Facing The Sun, Untalkative, Out Of Reach.

And The Case Of Butterflies So Rich It Looks As If All Summer Settled There And Died.

I Have Started To Say "a Quarter Of A Century" Or "thirty Years Back" About My Own Life.