You Are Either Born A Writer Or

I Ain't Got An Original Thought In My Head. If It Ain't Got The Scent Of Divinity To It, I Ain't Interested In It

When The Lies Are All Told And Forgot The Truth Will Be Their Yet.

He May Be Dead; Or He May Be Teaching English.

Borrowed Time And Borrowed World And Borrowed Eyes With Which To Sorrow It.

If Much In The World Were Mystery The Limits Of That World Were Not, For It Was Without Measure Or Bound And There Were Contained Within It Creatures More Horrible Yet And Men Of Other Colors And Beings Which No Man Has Looked Upon And Yet Not Alien None Of It More Than Were Their Own Hearts Alien In Them, Whatever Wilderness Contained There And Whatever Beasts.