The Fog Comes On Little Cat Feet.

A Man May Be Born, But In Order To Be Born He Must First Die, And In Order To Die He Must First Awake.

His Books Were Part Of Him. Each Year Of His Life, It Seemed, His Books Became More And More A Part Of Him. This Room, Thirty By Twenty Feet, And The Walls Of Shelves Filled With Books, Had For Him The Murmuring Of Many Voices. In The Books Of Herodotus, Tacitus, Rabelais, Thomas Browne, John Milton, And Scores Of Others, He Had Found Men Of Face And Voice More Real To Him Than Many A Man He Had Met For A Smoke And A Talk.

The Moon Is A Friend For The Lonesome To Talk To.

I'll Die Propped Up In Bed Trying To Do A Poem About America.

The Impact Of Television On Our Culture Is Just Indescribable.