A Poet Can't Afford To Be Aloof.

Extending Your Hand Is Extending Yourself.

There's No Misery In Not Being Loved, Only In Not Loving.

Poetry Is Fact Given Over To Imagery.

It's Nice Sometimes To Open Up The Heart A Little And Let Some Hurt Come In. It Proves You're Still Alive.

We Come Into The World Alone. We Go Away The Same. We're Meant To Spend The Interlude Between In Closeness Or So We Tell Ourselves. But It's A Long Way From The Morning To The Evening.