I Am Not A Teacher. I Am

Like A Piece Of Ice On A Hot Stove The Poem Must Ride On Its Own Melting. . . . Read It A Hundred Times; It Will Forever Keep Its Freshness As A Metal Keeps Its Fragrance. It Can Never Lose Its Sense Of A Meaning That Once Unfolded By Surprise As It Went.

Nations Like The Cuban And The Swiss Can Never Hope To Wage A Global Mission. No Holy Wars For Them. The Most The Small Can Ever Give Us Is A Nuisance Brawl.

I Still Say The Only Education Worth Anything Is Self-education.

All The Fun Is In How You Say A Thing.

One Of The Lies Would Make It Out That Nothing Ever Presents Itself Before Us Twice. Where Would We Be At Last If That Were So? Our Very Life Depends On Everything's Recurring Till We Answer From Within.