If We Were In The Habit Of

Pain Comes From The Darkness. And We Call It Wisdom. It Is Pain.

Imagism Was A Reductio Ad Absurdum Of One Or Two Tendencies Of Romanticism, Such A Beautifully And Finally Absurd One That It Is Hard To Believe It Existed As Anything But A Logical Construction; And What Imagist Found It Possible To Go On Writing Imagist Poetry? A Number Of Poets Have Stopped Writing Entirely; Others, Like Recurring Decimals, Repeat The Novelties They Commeced With, Each Time Less Valuably Than Before. And There Are Surrealist Poetry, And Political Poetry, And All The Othe Refuges Of The Indigent.

Habits Are Happiness Of A Sort...

And The World Said, Child, You Will Not Be Missed. You Are Cheaper Than A Wrench, Your Back Is A Road; Your Death Is A Table In A Book. You Had Our Wit, Our Heart Was Sealed To You: Man Is The Judgment Of The World.

If We Meet An Honest And Intelligent Politician, A Dozen, A Hundred, We Say They Aren't Like Politicians At All, And Our Category Of Politicians Stays Unchanged; We Know What Politicians Are Like.