What Should I Say About Life? That

When The Eye Fails To Find Beauty-alias Solace-it Commands The Body To Create It, Or, Failing That, Adjusts Itself To Perceive Virtue In Ugliness.

It's Rather An Exhilarating Feeling. It's 6 Or 7 When You Get Up And Go Out Into The Fields Wearing Your Wellingtons Or High Boots. You Know That At This Very Hour Half The Nation Does The Same Thing, Which Gives You, With The Benefit Of Hindsight, A Satisfaction In Doing Those Things, Too, A Knowledge, A Sense Of The Nation. I Was A City Boy Until Then.

Poetry Is What Is Gained In Translation.

The Formula For Prison Is A Lack Of Space Counterbalanced By A Surplus Of Time. This Is What Really Bothers You, That You Can't Win. Prison Is Lack Of Alternatives, And The Telescopic Predictability Of The Future Is What Drives You Crazy.

Snobbery? But It's Only A Form Of Despair.