Love Is Not Love Until Love's Vulnerable.

Love Begets Love. This Torment Is My Joy.

Over Every Mountain There Is A Path, Although It May Not Be Seen From The Valley.

I Can't Go On Flying Apart Just For Those Who Want The Benefit Of A Few Verbal Kicks. My God, Do You Know What Poems Like That Cost? They're Not Written Vicariously: They Come Out Of Actual Suffering, Real Madness.

May My Silences Become More Accurate.

The Light Comes Brighter From The East; The Cawof Restive Crows Is Sharper On The Ear.