Just when do men that have different blood in them stop hating one another?
If happy I can be I will, if suffer I must I can.
What a writer's obituary should read - he wrote the books, then he died.
Some days in late August at home are like this, the air thin and eager like this, with something in it sad and nostalgic and familiar.
The poet's voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.
A hack writer who would have been considered fourth rate in Europe, who tried out a few of the old proven 'sure-fire' literary skeletons with sufficient local color to intrigue the superficial and the lazy.