For In This Walk, This

We Were All Born Of Flesh, In A Flare Of Pain. We Do Not Remember The Red Roots Whence We Rose, But We Know That We Rose And Walked, That After A While We Shall Lie Down Again.

Death Is One Dream Out Of Another Flowing.

Whitman Had A Profound Influence On Me. That Was During My Sophomore Year When I Came Down With A Bad Attack Of Whitmanitis. But He Did Me A Lot Of Good, And I Think The Influence Is Discoverable.

I Began By Doing Book Reviews On The Typewriter And Then Went Over To Short Stories On The Machine, Meanwhile Sticking To Pencil For Poetry.

All Lovely Things Will Have An Ending, All Lovely Things Will Fade And Die; And Youth, That's Now So Bravely Spending, Will Beg A Penny By And By.