Publishing a volume of verse is like dropping a rose petal down the Grand Canyon and waiting for the echo.

Censors are necessary, increasingly necessary, if America is to avoid having a vital literature.

Give up the dream that Love may trick the fates To live again somewhere beyond the gleam Of dying stars, or shatter the strong gates Some god has builded high; give up the dream.

We pay for the mistakes of our ancestors, and it seems only fair that they should leave us the money to pay with.

For all of the creeds are false, and all of the creeds are true; And low at the shrines where my brothers bow, there will I bow too; For no form of a god, and no fashion Man has made in his desperate passion, But is worthy some worship of mine; Not too hot with a gross belief, Nor yet too cold with pride, I will bow me down where my brothers bow, Humble, but open eyed.

Blood will tell, but often it tells too much.

Life is one damned kitten after another." Mehitabel the Alley Cat