Why Break The Heart That

And Now, My Poor Old Woman, Why Are You Crying So Bitterly? It Is Autumn. The Leaves Are Falling From The Trees Like Burning Tears- The Wind Howls. Why Must You Mimic Them?

The Sun Sank With A Sob And Darkness Waded In From All Horizons So That The Sky Contracted And There Was No More Light Left In The World, When, At This Very Moment Of Annihilation, The Moon, As Though She Had Been Waiting For Her Cue, Sailed Up The Night.

There Is A Brotherhood Among The Kindly- Closer And Defter And More Integral- Than Any Of Aisle Or Coven- For Love Rang Out Before The Chapel Bell

We Are All Imprisoned By The Dictionary. We Choose Out Of That Vast, Paper-walled Prison Our Convicts, The Little Black Printed Words, When In Truth We Need Fresh Sounds To Utter, New Enfranchised Noises Which Would Produce A New Effect.

For What Use Are Books To Anyone Whose Days Are Like A Rook's Nest With Every Twig A Duty.