I don't get acting jobs because of my looks.

And none will hear the postman’s knock Without a quickening of the heart. For who can bear to feel himself forgotten?

A poet is a professional maker of verbal objects.

Follow, poet, follow right To the bottom of the night, With your unconstraining voice Still persuade us to rejoice; With the farming of a verse Make a vineyard of the curse, Sing of human unsuccess In a rapture of distress; In the deserts of the heart Let the healing fountain start, In the prison of his days Teach the free man how to praise.

Clear, unscaleable ahead, Rise the mountains of instead From whose cold, cascading streams None may drink except in dreams

Words have no word for words that are not true.

August for the people and their favourite islands. Daily the steamers sidle up to meet The effusive welcome of the pier.