I Am Not Eccentric. It's

Poetry Ennobles The Heart And The Eyes, And Unveils The Meaning Of All Things Upon Which The Heart And The Eyes Dwell. It Discovers The Secret Rays Of The Universe, And Restores To Us Forgotten Paradises.

My Poems Are Hymns Of Praise To The Glory Of Life.

Still Falls The Rain - Dark As The World Of Man, Black As Our Loss - Blind As The Nineteen Hundred And Forty Nails Upon The Cross.

Eccentricity Is Not, As Some Would Believe, A Form Of Madness. It Is Often A Kind Of Innocent Pride, And The Man Of Genius And The Aristocrat Are Frequently Regarded As Eccentrics Because Genius And Aristocrat Are Entirely Unafraid Of And Uninfluenced By The Opinions And Vagaries Of The Crowd.

If One Is A Greyhound, Why Try To Look Like A Pekingese?