The living quality of the man’s mind stands out and its covert assertions for art, art, art!

Take it out in vile whisky, take i… in lifting your skirts to show you… crotches; it is this that is inten… You are it. Your pleas will alway… You too will always go up with the…

The whole process is a lie, unless, crowned by excess, It break forcefully, one way or another,

I have discovered that most of the beauties of travel are due to the strange hours we keep to see t… the domes of the Church of the Paulist Fathers in Weehawken

Tho’ I’m no Catholic I listen hard when the bells in the yellow—brick tower of their new church ring down the leaves

A big young bareheaded woman in an apron Her hair slicked back standing on the street One stockinged foot toeing

Why pretend to remember the weather two years back? Why not? Listen close then repeat after others what they have just said and win a reputation for vivacity. Oh feed upon petals o...

Sorrow is my own yard where the new grass flames as it has flamed often before but not with the cold fire

It is a small plant delicately branched and tapering conically to a point, each branch and the peak a wire for

The May sun—whom all things imitate— that glues small leaves to the wooden trees shone from the sky

Of asphodel, that greeny flower, like a buttercup upon its branching stem– save that it’s green and wooden– I come, my sweet,

The crowd at the ball game is moved uniformly by a spirit of uselessness which delights them— all the exciting detail