Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.
No man who ever lived knows any more about the hereafter than you and I.
Once upon a midnight dreary
In beauty of face no maiden ever equaled her. It was the radiance of an opium-dream - an airy and spirit-lifting vision more wildly divine than the fantasies which hovered about the slumbering souls of the daughters of Delos.
Reality is the #1 cause of insanity among those who are in contact with it
With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion.