Because Language Is The Carrier

What We Suffer, What We Endure, What We Muff, What We Kill, What We Miss, What We Are Guilty Of, Is Done By Us, As Individuals, In Private.

But It's Silly To Suggest The Writing Of Poetry Is Something Ethereal, A Sort Of Soul-crashing, Devastating Emotional Experience That Wrings You. I Have No Fancy Ideas About Poetry. ... It Doesn't Come To You On The Wings Of A Dove. It's Something You Have To Work Hard At.

O Fortunate Bride, Who Never Again Will Become Elated After Childbirth! O Lucky Older Wife, Who Has Been Cured Of Feeling Unwanted!

Song, Like A Wing, Tears Through My Breast, My Side, And Madness Chooses Out My Voice Again, Again.

Intellectuals Range Through The Finest Gradations Of Kind And Quality: From Those Who Are Merely Educated Neurotics, Usually With Strong Hidden Reactionary Tendencies, Through Mediocrities Of All Kinds, To Men Of Real Brains And Sensibility, More Or Less Stiffened Into Various Respectabilities Or Substitutes For Respectability. The Number Of Ignorant Specialists Is Large. The Number Of Hysterics And Compulsives Is Also Large.