Poetry Is A Mock Of A Cry

The Secret Of Happiness Is To Admire Without Desiring.

I Couldn't See Myself Filling Some Definite Niche In What Is Called A Career. This Was All Misty.

Poetry Is A Slipknot Tightened Around A Time-beat Of One Thought, Two Thoughts, And A Last Interweaving Thought There Is Not Yet A Number For.

There Is A Warning Love Sends And The Cost Of It Is Never Written Till Long Afterward.

Be Careful With Your Words, Once They Are Said, They Can Only Be Forgiven, Not Forgotten.