Do Not Forget, Some Give Little, And

The Writer Must Be Able To Revel And Roll In The Abundance Of Words; He Must Know Not Only The Direct But Also The Secret Power Of A Word. There Are Overtones And Undertones To A Word, And Lateral Echoes, Too.

I Can't Even Make Up A Rhyme About An Umbrella, Let Alone Death And Life And Eternal Peace.

I Have Gone To The Forest.

What Will I Do When I Can No Longer Dig?

Earth And Sea Merged, The Sea Tossed Itself In The Air In A Fantastic Dance, Into The Shapes Of Men And Horses And Tattered Banners. I Stood In The Lee Of An Overhanging Rock And Thought Of Many Things.