Real life is never quite as interesting as the story told afterward.

God made in the image of Man is an imperfect master.

I reserve the right to evolve. What I think and feel today is subject to revision tomorrow.

Prose pretends to be straightforward in its application to the truth, but truth itself is a dissembler. Poetry, much more honest, knows the deception can't be overcome.

Apathy is the slow poison coursing through the body politic that paves the way to tyranny.

Poetry is the art of using language to transcend language.

If God spent 180 million years making dinosaurs, what makes us think Man is so special, a tick of the clock before midnight?