Deprivation Is For Me What Daffodils Were

Home Is So Sad. It Stays As It Was Left, / Shaped To The Comfort Of The Last To Go / As If To Win Them Back

I Don't Think I Write Well - Just Better Than Anyone Else.

If You Tell A Novelist, 'life's Not Like That', He Has To Do Something About It. The Poet Simply Replies, 'no, But I Am.'

To Put One Brick Upon Another, Add A Third, And Then A Fourth, Leaves No Time To Wonder Whether What You Do Has Any Worth.

Get Stewed:books Are A Load Of Crap.