Even So, One Step From

I Don't Like People Who Have Never Fallen Or Stumbled. Their Virtue Is Lifeless And It Isn't Of Much Value. Life Hasn't Revealed Its Beauty To Them.

Poetry Is A Rich, Full-bodied Whistle, Cracked Ice Crunching In Pails, The Night That Numbs The Leaf, The Duel Of Two Nightingales, The Sweet Pea That Has Run Wild, Creation's Tears In Shoulder Blades.

How Many Things In The World Deserve Our Loyalty? Very Few Indeed. I Think One Should Be Loyal To Immortality, Which Is Another Word For Life, A Stronger Word For It.

Work Is The Order Of The Day, Just As It Was At One Time, With Our First Starts And Our Best Efforts. Do You Remember? Therein Lies Its Delight. It Brings Back The Forgotten; One's Stores Of Energy, Seemingly Exhausted, Come Back To Life.

No Deep And Strong Feeling, Such As We May Come Across Here And There In The World, Is Unmixed With Compassion. The More We Love, The More The Object Of Our Love Seems To Us To Be A Victim.