To Think Is To Be

One Must Not Look Inward Too Much, While The Inside Is Yet Tender. I Do Not Wish To Frighten Myself Until I Can Stand It.

I'm A Fart In A Gale Of Wind, A Humble Violet Under A Cow Pat.

Even The Contemplative Life Is Only An Effort, Nora My Dear, To Hide The Body So The Feet Won’t Stick Out.

Youth Is Cause, Effect Is Age; So With The Thickening Of The Neck We Get Data.

And Must I, Perchance, Like Careful Writers, Guard Myself Against The Conclusions Of My Readers?