She [venison] Had Never Travelled And So

There Can Be No Literary Equivalent To Truth.

Poetry Is A Sleep-maker For That Which Sits Up Late In Us Listening For The Footfall Of The Future On To-day's Doorstep.

I Believe That Misconceptions About Oneself That One Does Not Correct Where Possible Act As A Bad Magic.

Truth Rings No Bells.

Metaphor Is, As A Common Feature Of Linguistic Practice, An Incidental Expediency, A Homely Administering Of First-aid By Mother-wit To Jams Or Halts In Expression Suddenly Confronting Speakers, With No Respectable Linguistic Solution Immediately In Sight.