I was a boy when I first realized that the fullest life liveable was a Poet's
All a poet can do today is warn.
The old Lie:Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.
Never fear: Thank Home, and Poetry, and the Force behind both.
All theological lore is becoming distasteful to me.
Do you know what would hold me together on a battlefield? The sense that I was perpetuating the language in which Keats and the rest of them wrote!