O Let Not Time Deceive You, You

Follow, Poet, Follow Right To The Bottom Of The Night, With Your Unconstraining Voice Still Persuade Us To Rejoice; With The Farming Of A Verse Make A Vineyard Of The Curse, Sing Of Human Unsuccess In A Rapture Of Distress; In The Deserts Of The Heart Let The Healing Fountain Start, In The Prison Of His Days Teach The Free Man How To Praise.

To Hunt For Symbols In A Fairy Tale Is Absolutely Fatal.

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

Those Who Hate To Go To Bed Fear Death; Those Who Hate To Get Up Fear Life.

A Person Incapable Of Imaging Another World Than Given To Him By His Senses Would Be Subhuman, And A Person Who Identifies His Imaginary World With The World Of Sensory Fact Has Become Insane.