Art Is Like Politics. Any Theory Carried

I Shall Go Up And Down In My Gown. Gorgeously Arrayed, Boned And Stayed.

Brighter Than Fireflies Upon The Uji River Are Your Words In The Dark, Beloved.

Poetry, Far More Than Fiction, Reveals The Soul Of Humanity.

Moon! Moon! I Am Prone Before You. Pity Me,and Drench Me In Loneliness.

How Much More Beautiful Is The Moon, Slanting Down The Gauffered Branches Of A Plum-tree; The Moon Wavering Across A Bed Of Tulips; The Moon, Still, Upon Your Face. You Shine, Beloved, You And The Moon. But Which Is The Reflection?