We Are Using Our Own

Them Lady Poets Must Not Marry, Pal.

We Have Reason To Be Afraid. This Is A Terrible Place.

I Think That What Happens In My Poetic Work In The Future Will Depend On My Being Knocked In The Face, And Thrown Flat, And Given Cancer, And All Kinds Of Other Things Short Of Senile Dementia.

So If I Were Talking To A Young Writer, I Would Recommend The Cultivation Of Extreme Indifference To Both Praise And Blame Because Praise Will Lead You To Vanity, And Blame Will Lead You To Self-pity, And Both Are Bad For Writers.

We Are Using Our Own Skins For Wallpaper And We Cannot Win.