Much In Our Lives Is

The Folly Of War Is That It Can Have No Natural End Except In The Extinction An Entire People.

I Was Writing Novels In High School And Apprenticed Myself In A Way Both To Faulkner And To Hemingway.

Cherie, Keep Walking. Shut Your Eyes. We Are Headed For The Bridge. We Are Going To Cross It.

One Man's Insanity Is Another Man's Genius; Someday The World Will Recognize The Genius In My Insanity.

How Does The Poet Transform His Banal Thoughts (are Not Most Thoughts Banal?) Into Such Stunning Forms, Into Beauty?