Poetry Is A Language Pared Down To

The What Is So Much More Important Than How.

Haie! Haie! These Were The Swift To Harry; These The Keen-scented; These Were The Souls Of Blood. Slow On The Leash, Pallid The Leash-men!

Discoveries Are Made By Gluttons And Addicts. The Man Who Forgets To Eat And Sleep Has An Appetite For Fact, For Interrelations Among Causes.

People Find Ideas A Bore Because They Do Not Distinguish Between Live Ones And Stuffed Ones On A Shelf.

No Verse Is Libre For The Man Who Wants To Do A Good Job.