What Is Poetry Which Does

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

When I Curse Fate, It's Not Me, But The Earth In Me.

Only A White-haired Old Man, Who Would Be A Prophet Yet Is Not A Prophet, For He's Much Too Busy, Repeats While He Binds His Tomatoes: No Other End Of The World Will There Be, No Other End Of The World Will There Be.

It Was Only Toward The Middle Of The Twentieth Century That The Inhabitants Of Many European Countries Came, In General Unpleasantly, To The Realization That Their Fate Could Be Influenced Directly By Intricate And Abstruse Books Of Philosophy.

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.