The Intelligent Poor Individual Was

A Few Days Back Someone Sent Me Two Feathers. Two Bird's Feathers In A Sheet Of Note-paper With A Coronet, And Fastened With A Seal. Sent From A Place A Long Way Off; From One Who Need Not Have Sent Them Back At All. That Amused Me Too, Those Devilish Green Feathers.

Love Is Every Bit As Violent And Dangerous As Murder.

Do You Know What Constitutes A Great Poet? He Is A Person Without Shame, Incapable Of Blushing. Ordinary Fools Have Moments When They Go Off By Themselves And Blush With Shame; Not So The Great Poet.... If You Really Have To Quote Someone, Quote A Geographer; That Way You Won't Give Yourself Away. (p 44)

An Increasing Number Of People Who Lead Mental Lives Of Great Intensity, People Who Are Sensitive By Nature, Notice The Steadily More Frequent Appearance In Them Of Mental States Of Great Strangeness ... A Wordless And Irrational Feeling Of Ecstasy; Or A Breath Of Psychic Pain; A Sense Of Being Spoken To From Afar, From The Sky Or The Sea; An Agonizingly Developed Sense Of Hearing Which Can Cause One To Wince At The Murmuring Of Unseen Atoms; An Irrational Staring Into The Heart Of Some Closed Kingdom Suddenly And Briefly Revealed.

Earth And Sea Merged, The Sea Tossed Itself In The Air In A Fantastic Dance, Into The Shapes Of Men And Horses And Tattered Banners. I Stood In The Lee Of An Overhanging Rock And Thought Of Many Things.