There Is No Dusk To

There Are Those, I Know, Who Will Say That The Liberation Of Humanity, The Freedom Of Man And Mind, Is Nothing But A Dream. They Are Right. It Is The American Dream.

Poetry Is The Art Of Understanding What It Is To Be Alive.

Young Poets Are Advised By Their Elders To Avoid The Practice Of Journalism As They Would Wet Socks And Gin Before Breakfast.

The Infantile Cowardice Of Our Time Which Demands An External Pattern, A Nonhuman Authority.

Our Reliance In This Country Is On The Inquiring, Individual Human Mind. Our Strength Is Founded There; Our Resilience, Our Ability To Face An Ever-changing Future And To Master It. We Are Not Frozen Into The Backward-facing Impotence Of Those Societies, Fixed In The Rigidness Of An Official Dogma, To Which The Future Is The Mirror Of The Past. We Are Free To Make The Future For Ourselves.