When You Take My Time, You Take

Sun And Moon And Day And Night And Man And Beast Each With A Splendor Which Man In All His Vileness Cannot Set Aside; Each With An Excellence!

Any Writer Overwhelmingly Honest About Pleasing Himself Is Almost Sure To Please Others.

Concurring Hands Divide Flax For Damask That When Bleached By Irish Weather Has The Silvered Chamois-leather Water-tightness Of A Skin.

[the] Whirlwind Fife-and-drum Of The Storm Bends The Salt Marsh Grass, Disturbs Stars In The Sky And The Star On The Steeple; It Is A Privilege To See So Much Confusion.

... Imaginary Gardens With Real Toads In Them ... ... If You Demand On One Hand, The Raw Material Of Poetry In All Its Rawness And That Which Is On The Other Hand Genuine, Then You Are Interested In Poetry.