Poetry Is To Hold Judgment On Your

Your Home Is Regarded As A Model Home, Your Life As A Model Life. But All This Splendor, And You Along With It... It's Just As Though It Were Built Upon A Shifting Quagmire. A Moment May Come, A Word Can Be Spoken, And Both You And All This Splendor Will Collapse.

Poetry Is To Hold Judgment On Your Soul.

I Must Make Up My Mind Which Is Right – Society Or I.

Oh, One Soon Makes Friends With Invalids; And I Need So Much To Have Someone To Live For.

What Sort Of Truths Are They That The Majority Usually Supports? They Are Truths That Are Of Such Advanced Age That They Are Beginning To Break Up. And If A Truth Is As Old As That, It Is Also In A Fair Way To Become A Lie, Gentlemen.