Fighting Dragons Is My Holy Joy.

Though Friendship Is Not Quick To Burn It Is Explosive Stuff.

We Saw The Strong Trees Struggle And Their Plumes Do Down, The Poplar Bend And Whip Back Till It Split To Fall, The Elm Tear Up At The Root And Topple Like A Crown, The Pine Crack At The Base - We Had To Watch Them All. The Ash, The Lovely Cedar. We Had To Watch Them Fall. They Went So Softly Under The Loud Flails Of Air, Before That Fury They Went Down Like Feathers, With All The Hundred Springs That Flowered In Their Hair, And All The Years, Endured In All The Weathers - To Fall As If They Were Nothing, As If They Were Feathers.

When We Admit Our Vulnerability, We Include Others. If We Deny It, We Shut Them Out.

Anyone Who Is Going To Be A Writer Knows Enough At Fifteen To Write Several Novels.

In The Novel Or The Journal You Get The Journey. In A Poem You Get The Arrival.