Where Does One Go From A World

Think Neither Fear Nor Courage Saves Us. Unnatural Vices Are Fathered By Our Heroism. Virtues Are Forced Upon Us By Our Impudent Crimes. These Tears Are Shaken From The Wrath-bearing Tree.

The Immature Poet Imitates, The Mature Poet Plagiarizes.

Artistic Inevitability Lies In The Complete Adequacy Of The External To The Emotion.

Birth, And Copulation, And Death; That's All The Facts When You Come To Brass Tacks.

An Editor Should Tell The Author His Writing Is Better Than It Is. Not A Lot Better, A Little Better.