A Longing For The Dance Stirs In

The Poem In The Head Is Always Perfect. Resistance Begins When You Try To Convert It Into Language.

We Have All Been Expelled From The Garden, But The Ones Who Suffer Most In Exile Are Those Who Are Still Permitted To Dream Of Perfection.

What Makes The Engine Go? Desire, Desire, Desire.

The Supreme Morality Of Art Is To Endure.

An Old Poet Ought Never To Be Caught With His Technique Showing.