The Tiger Springs In The

Whatever You Think, Be Sure It Is What You Think; Whatever You Want, Be Sure That Is What You Want; Whatever You Feel, Be Sure That Is What You Feel.

The Winter Evening Settles Down With Smell Of Steaks In Passageways.

Poetry Is A Mug's Game.

It's Strange That Words Are So Inadequate. Yet, Like The Asthmatic Struggling For Breath, So The Lover Must Struggle For Words.

There Is One Who Remembers The Way To Your Door: Life You May Evade, But Death You Shall Not.