Women Have No Wilderness In

It Is Almost Impossible For The Poetess, Once Laurelled, To Take Off The Crown For Good Or To Reject Values And Taste Of Those Who Tender It.

Hate Does Not Present Many Choices; If Hate Is Your Solution, You Are Fairly Certain To Hate All Phemonena With Equal Joy And Intensity, Without Troubling To Drag Into Prominence Any One Feature From The Loathsome Whole.

Song, Like A Wing, Tears Through My Breast, My Side, And Madness Chooses Out My Voice Again, Again.

Poetry Is Often Generations In Advance Of The Thought Of Its Time.

The Art Of One Period Cannot Be Approached Through The Attitudes (emotional Or Intellectual) Of Another.