There Is One Story And One Story

If I Were A Young Man With My Bones Full Of Marrow, Oh, If I Were A Bold Young Man Straight As An Arrow, I'd Store Up No Virtue For Heaven's Distant Plain, I'd Live At Ease As I Did Please And Sin Once Again.

But Give Thanks, At Least, That You Still Have Frost's Poems; And When You Feel The Need Of Solitude, Retreat To The Companionship Of Moon, Water, Hills And Trees. Retreat, He Reminds Us, Should Not Be Confused With Escape. And Take These Poems Along For Good Luck!

There's No Money In Poetry, But Then There's No Poetry In Money, Either.

There Is No Such Thing As Good Writing, Only Good Rewriting.

What We Now Call "finance" Is, I Hold, An Intellectual Perversion Of What Began As Warm Human Love.