Hunger Allows No Choice.

Adjectives Are The Potbelly Of Poetry.

God Is Love, We Are Taught As Children To Believe. But When We First Begin To Get Some Inkling Of How He Loves Us, We Are Repelled; It Seems So Cold, Indeed, Not Love At All As We Understand The Word.

The Older Lives Like Not To Be Stood In Rows Or At Right Angles.

We Till Shadowed Days Are Done, We Must Weep And Sing Duty's Conscious Wrong, The Devil In The Clock

The Lights Must Never Go Out, The Music Must Always Play