I Do Not Believe In Belief.

At The Moment They Vanished They Were Everywhere, The Cool Benediction Of The Night Descended, The Stars Sparkled, And The Whole Universe Was A Hill.

Don't Be Mysterious; There Isn't The Time.

I Really Don't Know What Happens Next -- One So Seldom Does.

Men Yearn For Poetry Though They May Not Confess It; They Desire That Joy Shall Be Graceful And Sorrow August And Infinity Have A Form.

Logic! Good Gracious! What Rubbish!