Hazard Has Conditioned Us To Live In

I Suppose I'd Had, By The Standards Of That Pre-permissive Time, A Good Deal Of Sex For My Age. Girls, Or A Certain Kind Of Girl, Liked Me; I Had A Car-not So Common Among Undergraduates In Those Days-and I Had Some Money. I Wasn't Ugly; And Even More Important, I Had My Loneliness, Which, As Every Cad Knows, Is A Deadly Weapon With Women. My 'technique' Was To Make A Show Of Unpredictability, Cynicism, And Indifference. Then, Like A Conjurer With His White Rabbit, I Produced The Solitary Heart.

You Come To The United States Not Knowing What To Expect. Then All Your Worst Prejudices Are Confirmed.

He Felt Himself In Suspension Between The Two Worlds, The Warm, Neat Civilization Behind His Back, The Cool, Dark Mystery Outside. We All Write Poems; It Is Simply That Poets Are The Ones Who Write In Words.

In Some Mysterious Way Woods Have Never Seemed To Me To Be Static Things. In Physical Terms, I Move Through Them; Yet In Metaphysical Ones, They Seem To Move Through Me.

It's Like The Day You Realize Dolls Are Dolls. I Pick Up My Old Self And I See It's Silly. A Toy I've Played With Too Often. It's A Little Sad, Like An Old Golliwog At The Bottom Of The Cupboard. Innocent And Used-up And Proud And Silly.