As For His Evil Tidings, Belshazzar's Overthrow,

The Hurt Is Not Enough: I Long For Weight And Strength. To Feel The Earth As Rough To All My Length

Now No Joy But Lacks Salt That Is Not Dashed With Pain And Weariness And Fault; I Crave The Stain Of Tears, The Aftermark Of Almost Too Much Love, The Sweet Of Bitter Bark And Burning Clove.

There Is Absolutely No Reason For Being Rushed Along With The Rush. Everybody Should Be Free To Go Slow.

You're Always Believing Ahead Of Your Evidence. What Was The Evidence I Could Write A Poem? I Just Believed It. The Most Creative Thing In Us Is To Believe In A Thing.

If You Don't Know How Great This Country Is, I Know Someone Who Does; Russia.