my sweet old etcetera aunt lucy during the recent war could and what is more did tell you just what everybody was fighting for, my sister isabel created hundreds (and hundreds) of socks not to mention shirts fleaproof earwarmers etcetera wristers etcetera, my mother hoped that i would die etcetera bravely of course my father used to become hoarse talking about how it was a privilege and if only he could meanwhile my self etcetera lay quietly in the deep mud et cetera (dreaming, et cetera, of Your smile eyes knees and of your Etcetera)

guilt is the cause of more marauders than history's most obscene disauders

deeds cannot dream what dreams can do

In just - Spring when the world is mud- luscious the little lame balloonman whistles far and wee

Treat a man like dirt-he produces flowers.

O sweet spontaneous earth

A pretty girl who is naked / is worth a million statues