I Am Haunted By Interrupted Acts, Introspective

Everywhere We Are Told That Our Human Resources Are All To Be Used, That Our Civilization Itself Means The Uses Of Everything It Has - The Inventions, The Histories, Every Scrap Of Fact. But There Is One Kind Of Knowledge - Infinitely Precious, Time-resistant More Than Monuments, Here To Be Passed Between The Generations In Any Way It May Be: Never To Be Used. And That Is Poetry.

Not All Things Are Blest, But The Seeds Of All Things Are Blest.

I Will Try To Be Non-violent One More Day This Morning, Waking The World Away In The Violent Day.

Never To Despise In Myself What I Have Been Taught To Despise. Nor To Despise The Other. Not To Despise The It. To Make This Relation With The It: To Know That I Am It.

There Is Also, In Any History, The Buried, The Wasted, And The Lost.