Icky icky icky icky fKANG zoop-boing n zowzyin...

Icky icky icky icky fKANG zoop-boing n zowzyin...

Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the color of the wind.

Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the color of the wind.

Literature was formerly an art and finance a trade; today it is the reverse.

Literature was formerly an art and finance a trade; today it is the reverse.

Accent is the soul of a language; it gives the feeling and truth
to it.
[Fr., L'accent est read more

Accent is the soul of a language; it gives the feeling and truth
to it.
[Fr., L'accent est l'ame du discours, il lui donne le sentiment
et la verite.]

The good writing of any age has always been the product of someone's neurosis.

The good writing of any age has always been the product of someone's neurosis.

Language. I loved it. And for a long time I would think of myself, of my whole body, as an read more

Language. I loved it. And for a long time I would think of myself, of my whole body, as an ear.

Literature is the question minus the answer.

Literature is the question minus the answer.

I don't like to write, but I love to have written

I don't like to write, but I love to have written

Till last by Philip's farm I flowTo join the brimming river,For men may come and men may go,But I go read more

Till last by Philip's farm I flowTo join the brimming river,For men may come and men may go,But I go on for ever. - The Brook.