Stupidity Always Accompanies Evil. Or

But It's Silly To Suggest The Writing Of Poetry Is Something Ethereal, A Sort Of Soul-crashing, Devastating Emotional Experience That Wrings You. I Have No Fancy Ideas About Poetry. ... It Doesn't Come To You On The Wings Of A Dove. It's Something You Have To Work Hard At.

O God, In The Dream The Terrible Horse Began To Paw At The Air, And Make For Me With His Blows.

But Is There Any Reason To Believe That A Woman's Spiritual Fibre Is Less Sturdy Than A Man's? Is It Not Possible For A Woman To Come To Terms With Herself If Not With The World; To Withdraw More And More, As Time Goes On, Her Own Personality From Her Productions; To Stop Childish Fears Of Death And Eschew Charming Rebellions Against Facts?

No More Pronouncements On Lousy Verse. No More Hidden Competition. No More Struggling Not To Be A Square.

I Have Lost Faith In Universal Panaceas - Work Is The One Thing In Which I Really Believe.