If We Were In The

A Poet Is A Man Who Manages, In A Lifetime Of Standing Out In Thunderstorms, To Be Struck By Lightning Five Or Six Times.

Human Life Without Some Form Of Poetry Is Not Human Life But Animal Existence.

Art Is Long, And Critics Are The Insects Of A Day.

We Are All So To Speak Intellectuals About Something.

In Heaven All Reviews Will Be Favorable; Here On Earth, The Publisher Realizes, Plausibility Demands An Occasional Bad One, Some Convincing Lump In All That Leaven, And He Accepts It Somewhat As A Theologian Accepts Evil.