There Are A Lot Of Men Who

But Our Gusty Emotions Say To Me That We Have / Tasted Heaven Many Times: These Delicacies / Are Left Over From Some Larger Party.

I Was Unfaithful Even To Infidelity.

If A Man, Cautious, Hides His Limp, Somebody Has To Limp It! Things Do It; The Surroundings Limp. House Walls Get Scars, The Car Breaks Down; Matter, In Drudgery, Takes It Up.

When Anyone Seriously Pursues An Art - Painting, Poetry, Sculpture, Composing - Over Twenty Or Thirty Years, The Sustained Discipline Carries The Artist Down To The Countryside Of Grief, And That Descent, Resisted So Long Proves Invigorating. . . . As I've Gotten Older, I Find I Am Able To Be Nourished More By Sorrow And To Distinguish It From Depression.

The Body Weeps The Tears The Eyes Never Shed.