When one has the right swing and enthusiasm, selling is not unlike hunting, a veritable sport. To scare up the game by preliminary talk and to know how long to follow it, to lose your gain through poorly directed argument, to hang on to game that finally eludes, to boldly confront, to quickly circle around, to keep on the trail, tireless and keen, till you have bagged some orders, there is some satisfaction in returning at night, tired of the trail, but proud of the days work done.

Poetry is the capture of a picture, a song, or a flair, in a deliberate prism of words.

The squeaky wheel gets the grease but the quacking duck gets shot.

Poetry is an enumeration of birds, bees, babies, butterflies, bugs, bambinos, babayagas, and bipeds, beating their way up bewildering bastions.

Shame is the feeling you have when you agree with the woman who loves you that you are the man she thinks you are.

Poetry is a packsack of invisible keepsakes.

A man may be born, but in order to be born he must first die, and in order to die he must first awake.