The Supreme Morality Of Art

...few Young Poets [are] Testing Their Poems Against The Ear. They're Writing For The Page, And The Page, Let Me Tell You, Is A Cold Bed.

I Can Hardly Wait For Tomorrow, It Means A New Life For Me Each And Every Day.

A Longing For The Dance Stirs In The Buried Life.

The Unconscious Creates, The Ego Edits.

I Have Walked Through Many Lives, Some Of Them My Own, And I Am Not Who I Was, Though Some Principle Of Being Abides, From Which I Struggle Not To Stray.