There’s No Preparation For Poetry.

The Ambition Of Much Of Today's Literary Theory Seems To Be To Find Ways To Read Literature Without Imagination.

Only Poetry Can Measure The Distance Between Ourselves And The Other.

The Stars Know Everything, So We Try To Read Their Minds. As Distant As They Are, We Choose To Whisper In Their Presence.

The Stone Is A Mirror Which Works Poorly. Nothing In It But Dimness. Your Dimness Or Its Dimness, Who's To Say? In The Hush Your Heart Sounds Like A Black Cricket.

Only Brooms Know The Devil Still Exists, That The Snow Grows Whiter After A Crow Has Flown Over It