Ten Thousand Times I've Done My Best

I Think That To Transfuse Emotion - Not To Transmit Thought But To Set Up In The Reader's Sense A Vibration Corresponding To What Was Felt By The Writer - Is The Peculiar Function Of Poetry.

But Men At Whiles Are Sober And Think By Fits And Starts. And If They Think, They Fasten Their Hands Upon Their Hearts

They Put Arsenic In His Meat And Stared Aghast To Watch Him Eat; They Poured Strychnine In His Cup And Shook To See Him Drink It Up.

Nature, Not Content With Denying Him The Ability To Think, Has Endowed Him With The Ability To Write.

Hope Lies To Mortals And Most Believe Her, But Man's Deceiver Was Never Mine.