The Image Is More Than An Idea.

A People That Grows Accustomed To Sloppy Writing Is A People In The Process Of Losing Grip On Its Empire And On Itself.

Come, Let Us Pity Those Who Are Better Off Than We Are. Come, My Friend, And Remember That The Rich Have Butlers And No Friends, And We Have Friends And No Butlers. (excerpt From 'the Garrett')

Rhythm Must Have Meaning.

The Rustling Of The Silk Is Discontinued, Dust Drifts Over The Courtyard, There Is Not Sound Of Footfall, And The Leaves Scurry Into Heaps And Lie Still, And She The Rejoicer Of The Heart Is Beneath Them: A Wet Leaf That Clings To The Threshold.

The Artist Is Always Beginning. Any Work Of Art Which Is Not A Beginning, An Invention, A Discovery Is Of Little Worth.