Bureaucrats Are A Pox. They Are Supposed

The Sum Of Human Wisdom Is Not Contained In Any One Language, And No Single Language Is Capable Of Expressing All Forms And Degrees Of Human Comprehension.

I Consider Criticism Merely A Preliminary Excitement, A Statement Of Things A Writer Has To Clear Up In His Own Head Sometime Or Other, Probably Antecedent To Writing; Of No Value Unless It Come To Fruit In The Created Work Later.

And New York Is The Most Beautiful City In The World? It Is Not Far From It. No Urban Night Is Like The Night There... Squares After Squares Of Flame, Set Up And Cut Into The Aether. Here Is Our Poetry, For We Have Pulled Down The Stars To Our Will.

Be Not Cheap Or Mediocre In Desiring.

Rhythm Must Have Meaning.