Without A Little Negligence, Life Would Be

If We Think About The Obvious Long Enough, It Dissolves.

In The Great Cities, Winter Glitters With Art And Feasting. But Poetry, The Country Cousin, Sees Only The Dearth Of The Fields.

Reading More Than Life Teaches Us To Recognize Ethos And Pathos.

The Dignified Catastrophes Of Tragedy Bear Little Resemblance To The Slow Ruin Inflicted By Life.

Always Late: Thus I Make You The Prisoner Of My Freedom.