Poetry Is News Brought To

Consciousness Even In My Sleep Changes Primary Colors. The Features Of My Face Melt Like A Wax Doll In The Fire. And Who Can Consent To See In The Mirror The Mere Face Of Man?

I've Always Regretted That I'm Made Of Contradictions. But, If Contradiction Is Impossible To Overcome, We Have To Accept Both Its Ends.

There Was A Time When Only Wise Books Were Read Helping Us To Bear Our Pain And Misery. This, After All, Is Not Quite The Same As Leafing Through A Thousand Works Fresh From Psychiatric Clinics. And Yet The World Is Different From What It Seems To Be And We Are Other Than How We See Ourselves In Our Ravings.

Men Will Clutch At Illusions When They Have Nothing Else To Hold To.

Learning To Believe You Are Magnificent. And Gradually To Discover That You Are Not Magnificent. Enough Labor For One Human Life.