Never Underestimate The Meanness In

My Head Was A Magpie's Nest Lined With Such Bright Scraps Of Information.

Life Would Be Grand If It Weren't For The People.

Who Can Ever Say The Perfect Thing To The Poet About His Poetry?

It Almost Seemed As If There Must Be Some Random And Of Course Unfair Thrift In The Emotional Housekeeping Of The World, If The Great Happiness--however Temporary, However Flimsy--of One Person Could Come Out Of The Great Unhappiness Of Another.

Speculation Can Be More Gentle, Can Take Its Time, When It Is Not Driven By Desire.