One Of The Springs Of Poetry Is

Love Is Our Human Miracle.

Poetry Has A Way Of Teaching One What One Needs To Know ... If One Is Honest.

Gardening Is A Madness, A Folly That Does Not Go Away With Age. Quite The Contrary.

Though Friendship Is Not Quick To Burn It Is Explosive Stuff.

For Poetry Exists To Break Through To Below The Level Of Reason Where The Angels And Monsters That The Amenities Keep In The Cellar May Come Out To Dance, To Rove And Roar, Growling And Singing, To Bring Life Back To The Enclosed Rooms Where Too Often We Are Only 'living And Partly Living.