Did you ever stand on a street corner in American at five o'clock in the morning? I did.
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A man cannot impart the true feeling of things to others unless he himself has experienced what he is trying to tell of.
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A poet is a blind optimist. The world is against him formany reasons. But thepoet persists. He believesthat he is on the right track, no matter what any of his fellow men say. In hiseternal search for truth, thepoet is alone. He tries to be timeless in a society built on time.
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I am young now and can look upon my body and soul with pride. But it will be mangled soon, and later it will begin to disintegrate, and then I shall die, and die conclusively. How can we face such a fact, and not live in fear?
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