Put Your Backbone Where Your Wishbone Is.

Every Object Strives For Its Proper Place. A Book Seeks To Be Near Its Truest Admirer. Just As This Helpless Moth Seeks To Be Near The Candle That Infatuates Him.

I Recall Drinking Sherry In California And Dreaming Of England, Where I Ate Dalmoth And Dreamed Of Delhi. What Is The Purpose, I Wonder, Of All This Restlessness? I Sometimes Seem To Myself To Wander Around The World Merely Accumulating Material For Future Nostalgias.

In General, Questions Are Fine; You Can Always Seize Upon The Parts Of Them That Interest You And Concentrate On Answering Those. And One Has To Remember When Answering Questions That Asking Questions Isn't Easy Either, And For Someone Who's Quite Shy To Stand Up In An Audience To Speak Takes Some Courage.

Poetry, I Think, Intensifies The Reader's Experience. If It's A Humorous Facet Of The Story, Poetry Makes It More Exuberant. If It's A Sad Facet, Poetry Can Make It More Poignant.

Is It Not Love That Knows How To Make Smooth Things Rough And Rough Things Smooth?