It takes three to make a child.

The symbol of all art is the Prism. The goal is unrealism. The method is destructive. To break up the white light of objective realism, into the secret glories which it contains.

Who knows if the moon's / a balloon, coming out of a keen city / in the sky - filled with pretty people?

All in green went my love of riding on a great horse of gold into the silver dawn.

May my mind stroll about hungry and fearless and thirsty and supple and even if its sunday may i be wrong for whenever men are right they are not young

for whenever men are right they are not young

I'm living so far beyond my income that we may almost be said to be living apart.