I Smell Blood And An Era Of

Life Is A Picnic On A Precipice.

The Ear Tends To Be Lazy, Craves The Familiar And Is Shocked By The Unexpected; The Eye, On The Other Hand, Tends To Be Impatient, Craves The Novel And Is Bored By Repetition.

The Element Of Craftsmanship In Poetry Is Obscured By The Fact That All Men Are Taught To Speak And Most To Read And Write, While Very Few Men Are Taught To Draw Or Paint Or Write Music.

We Are All Here On Earth To Help Others; What On Earth The Others Are Here For I Don't Know.

We All Have These Places Where Shy Humiliations Gambol On Sunny Afternoons.