Life Is Always Bringing Unexpected Gifts.

Why Is It That People Who Cannot Show Feeling Presume That That Is A Strength And Not A Weakness?

For A Long Time Now, Every Meeting With Another Human Being Has Been The Reverberations After Even The Simplest Conversation. But The Deep Collision Is And Has Been With My Unregenerate, Tormenting And Tormented Self...i Am Unable To Become What I See. I Feel Like An Inadequate Machine, A Machine That Breaks Down At Crucial Moments, Grinds To A Dreadful Halt, "won't Go".

Poems Like To Have A Destination For Their Flight. They Are Homing Pigeons.

More Than Any Other Beauty (though It Is True Of All Beauty Except In Art) Passion Seems To Me To Have The Seeds Of Its Own Destruction In It.

Don't Forget That Compared To A Grownup Person Every Baby Is A Genius.