Far in the pillared dark Thrush music went- Almost like a call to come in To the dark and lament. But no, I was out for stars: I would not come in. I meant not even if asked, And I hadn't been.

Space ails us moderns: we are sick with space.

The old dog barks backward without getting up I can remember when he was a pup.

My goal in life is to unite my avocation with my vocation, As my two eyes make one in sight.

Create and stir other people to create.

Good fences make good neighbors.

People who read me seem to be divided into four groups: twenty-five percent like me for the right reasons; twenty-five percent like me for the wrong reasons; twenty-five percent hate me for the wrong reasons; twenty-five percent hate me for the right reasons. It's that last twenty-five percent that worries me.