Memory Is To Love What The Saucer

This, My First [bicycle] Had An Intrinsic Beauty. And It Opened For Me An Era Of All But Flying, Which Roads Emptily Crossing Theairy, Gold-gorsy Common Enhanced. Nothing Since Has Equalled That Birdlike Freedom.

Have Not All Poetic Truths Been Already Stated? The Essence Of A Poetic Truth Is That No Statement Of It Can Be Final.

When I Read A Story, I Relive The Moment From Which It Sprang. A Scene Burned Itself Into Me, A Building Magnetized Me, A Mood Orseason Of Nature's Penetrated Me, History Suddenly Appeared To Me In Some Tiny Act, Or A Face Had Begun To Haunt Me Before I Glanced At It.

[a Writer] Should Try Not To Be Too Far, Personally, Below The Level Of His Work.

The Heart May Think It Knows Better: The Senses Know That Absence Blots People Out. We Really Have No Absent Friends.