Everything is complicated; if that were not so, life and poetry and everything else would be a bore.

Most modern reproducers of life, even including the camera, really repudiate it. We gulp down evil, choke at good.

After one has abandoned a belief in God, poetry is that essence which takes its place as life's redemption.

Why should she give her bounty to the dead? What is divinity if it can come Only in silent shadows and in dreams?

LIGHT FROM WITHIN my friend, cancer got you damn it: you had it beat for seven years at least. how did it come back? Why all that pain. again. and you, such a fighter you fought me over and over with tears and words and promises. you fought for me with honesty and a light so bright it hurts my heart. sweet lorna. at peace now finally no more battles, just light from within a flickering candle in the dark burns with you.

Unfortunately there is nothing more inane than an Easter carol. It is a religious perversion of the activity of Spring in our blood.