Poetry Is A Language Pared

Haie! Haie! These Were The Swift To Harry; These The Keen-scented; These Were The Souls Of Blood. Slow On The Leash, Pallid The Leash-men!

What Matters Is Not The Idea A Man Holds, But The Depth At Which He Holds It.

America Is A Lunatic Asylum.

Properly, We Should Read For Power.

If A Patron Buys From An Artist Who Needs Money (needs Money To Buy Tools, Time, Food), The Patron Then Makes Himself Equal To The Artist; He Is Building Art Into The World; He Creates.