... We Do Not Admire What We

Truly As The Sun Can Rot Or Mend, Love Can Make One Bestial Or Make A Beast A Man.

I See No Reason For Calling My Work Poetry Except That There Is No Other Category In Which To Put It.

Only Imagination That Towers Can Reproduce Evanescence And Render Rigidity Flexible.

The Sea Is A Collector, Quick To Return A Rapacious Look.

Men Are Monopolists Of "stars, Garters, Buttons And Other Shining Baubles"- Unfit To Be The Guardians Of Another Person's Happiness.