For You Know Only A Heap Of

Where Is The Knowledge We Have Lost In Information?

I Was Too Slow A Mover To Be A Boxer. It Was Much Easier To Be A Poet.

Hurry Up, Please, Its Time.

April Is The Cruelest Month, Breeding Lilacs Out Of The Dead Land, Mixing Memory And Desire, Stirring Dull Roots With Spring Rain.

If One Has To Earn A Living, Therefore, The Safest Occupation Is That Most Remote From The Arts.