A poem is true if it hangs together. Information points to something else. A poem points to nothing but itself.

His wings were failing$$$ but he refused to fall without a struggle.

Men were not gods after all$$$ but as human and as clumsy as girls.

There's never any great risk as long as you have money.

Speech is a rolling-mill that always thins out the sentiment.

My foregrounds are imaginary$$$ my backgrounds real.

An author in his book must be like God in the universe$$$ present everywhere and visible nowhere.

A woman can put up with almost anything; anything but indifference.

Nothing is forever. Only death is permanent.

If you can prove to me that one miracle took place$$$ I will believe he is a just God who damned us all because a woman ate an apple.