We never stop reading$$$ although every book comes to an end$$$ just as we never stop living$$$ although death is certain.

Wild is the music of autumnal winds Amongst the faded woods.

My brain hums with scraps of poetry and madness.

All fortune is good fortune; for it either rewards$$$ disciplines$$$ amends$$$ or punishes$$$ and so is either useful or just.

Theres a lot of stuff you know and you don't even know how you know it!

I wear my hat as I please$$$ indoors or out.

And I watered it in fears$$$<br>Night and morning with my tears;<br>And I sunned it with smiles$$$<br>And with soft deceitful wiles.

Everything possible to be believed is an image of truth.

Dip him in the river who loves water.

To cast aside from Poetry$$$ all that is not Inspiration