Both T.s. Eliot And I Like To

Our Life Runs Down In Sending Up The Clock. The Brook Runs Down In Sending Up Our Life. The Sun Runs Down In Sending Up The Brook. And There Is Something Sending Up The Sun.

I Have Wished A Bird Would Fly Away, And Not Sing By My House All Day.

I Hate The Idea That You Ought To Read The Whole Of Anybody.

Unless You Are Educated In Metaphor, You Are Not Safe To Be Let Loose In The World.

Nothing Flatters Me More Than To Have It Assumed That I Could Write Prose, Unless It Be To Have It Assumed That I Once Pitched A Baseball With Distinction.