Certainly, It Seems True Enough That There's

When You Get An Idea, Go And Write. Don't Waste It In Conversation.

You Aren't Just The Age You Are. You Are All The Ages You Ever Have Been!

This Rose Became A Bandanna, Which Became A House, Which Became Infused With All Passion, Which Became A Hideaway, Which Became Yes I Would Like To Have Dinner, Which Became Hands, Which Became Lands, Shores, Beaches, Natives On The Stones, Staring And Wild Beasts In The Trees, Chasing The Hats Of Lost Hunters, And All This Deserves A Tone.

I've Had Trouble With Criticism, I Guess. It's Hard To Know What Role Criticism Plays In Either Encouraging Poets Or In Getting Other People To Read Them.

Certainly, It Seems True Enough That There's A Good Deal Of Irony In The World... I Mean, If You Live In A World Full Of Politicians And Advertising, There's Obviously A Lot Of Deception.