I am convinced that creativity is a priori to the integrity of the universe and that life is regenerative and conformity meaningless.

Illusion is whatever is fixed or definable$$$ and reality is best understood as its negation.

The genuine artist$$$ Harris is saying$$$ finds reality in a point of identity between subject and object$$$ a point at which the created world and the world that is really there become the same thing.

Men are strange. It's almost unexpected to find they speak English.

They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load$$$<br>And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed<br>So low for long$$$ they never right themselves.

He thought that I was after him for a feather---The white one in his tail: like one who takes everything said as personal to himself.

Yes$$$ and even for the past...that it will turn out to have been all right for what it was. Something I can accept. Mistakes made by the self I had to be or was not able to be.

He says the best way out is always through.<br>And I can agree to that$$$ or in so far<br>As that I can see no way out but through.

Poets are like baseball pitchers. Both have their moments. The intervals are the tough things.

I dwell with a strangely aching heart<br>In that vanished abode there far apart.