Happy Are The Beloved And

My Father Gave Me Free Run Of His Library. When I Think Of My Boyhood, I Think In Terms Of The Books I Read.

What Will Die With Me When I Die, What Pathetic Or Fragile Form Will The World Lose?

Nothing Is Built On Stone; All Is Built On Sand, But We Must Build As If The Sand Were Stone.

Reality Is Not Always Probable, Or Likely. But If You're Writing A Story, You Have To Make It As Plausible As You Can, Because If Not, The Reader's Imagination Will Reject It.

Best Thing To Happen For A Poet. A Fine Death, No? An Impressive Death.