The World Is A Sea In Which

A Triptych In Which The Presiding Deities Are Mother, England And Me.

No Poet Is Ever Completely Lost. He Has The Secret Of His Childhood Safe With Him, Like Some Secret Cave In Which He Can Kneel. And, When We Read His Poetry, We Can Join Him There.

Familial Love Can Find An Echo In Our Own Hearts Just As It Did In That Of Charles Dickens.

There Is A Word In Old English Which Belongs Wholly To That Civilization - "dustsceawung," Meaning Contemplation Of Dust. It Is A True Image Of The Anglo-saxon Mind, Or At Least An Echo Of That Consciousness Which Considered Transcience And Loss To Be Part Of The Human Estate; It Was A World In Which Life Was Uncertain And The Principal Diety Was Fate Or Destiny Or "wyrd."

My Great Fear Has Always Been Complete And Utter Failure. Hence, You See, All The Dispossessed People In My Fiction, And Why I Try To Earn As Much Money As I Can. It's A Defense. I Don't Enjoy It Or Do Anything With It.