All in green went my love riding

The world is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful.

maybe god is a child ‘s hand)very carefully bring -ing to you and to me(and quite with out crushing)the papery weightless diminutive world with a hole in it out of which demons with wings would be streaming if something had(maybe they couldn’t agree)not happened(and floating- ly int o

Nothing recedes like progress.

Take the so-called standard of living. What do most people mean by "living"? They don’t mean living. They mean the latest and closest plural approximation to singular prenatal passivity which science, in its finite but unbounded wisdom, has succeeded in selling their wives.

Well, write poetry, for God's sake, it's the only thing that matters.

O sweet spontaneous earth how often has the naughty thumb of science prodded thy beauty thou answereth them only with spring.