The Language Has Got To

To Try To Expunge An Individual's History Is A Terrible Violation.

Once One Habit Peels Away The Others Follow It. You Have To Hold On, Or The Next Thing You'll Find Yourself Parading Down The Street In Your Nightdress. Habit Is Everything.

The Poets Whom I Knew Then Were All Men And All Seemed Dauntingly Sure Of Themselves - Although I Am Sure That Really They Were As Uncertain As I Was.

I Wish I Was Away In Ingo Far Across The Briny Sea Sailing Over Deepest Waters Where Neither Care Nore Worry Trouble Me

Those Who Try To Obliterate The Past Are Injuring The Present.