Once You Permit Those Who Are Convinced

The Roots Of The Grass Strain, Tighten, The Earth Is Rigid, Waits-he Is Waiting- And Suddenly, And All At Once, The Rain!

If The Art Of Poetry Is?the Art Of Making Sense Of The Chaos Of Human Experience, It's Not A Bad Thing To See A Lot Of Chaos.

Conventional Wisdom Notwithstanding, There Is No Reason Either In Football Or In Poetry Why The Two Should Not Meet In A Man's Life If He Has The Weight And Cares About The Words.

Never In All Their History Have Men Been Able Truly To Conceive Of The World As One: A Single Sphere, A Globe, Having The Qualities Of A Globe, A Round Earth In Which All The Directions Eventually Meet, In Which There Is No Center Because Every Point, Or None, Is Center - An Equal Earth Which All Men Occupy As Equals. The Airman's Earth, If Free Men Make It, Will Be Truly Round: A Globe In Practice, Not In Theory.

Wildness And Silence Disappeared From The Countryside, Sweetness Fell From The Air, Not Because Anyone Wished Them To Vanish Or Fall But Because Throughways Had To Floor The Meadows With Cement To Carry The Automobiles Which Advancing Technology Produced. Tropical Beaches Turned Into High-priced Slums Where Thousand-room Hotels Elbowed Each Other For Glimpses Of Once-famous Surf Not Because Those Who Loved The Beaches Wanted Them There But Because Enormous Jets Could Bring A Million Tourists Every Year - And Therefore Did.