from a letter to Colonel Higginston
Truth is such a rare thing, it is delightful to tell it.
I find ecstacy in living; the mere sense of living is joy enough.
How do most people live without any thoughts? Ther are many people in the world,–you must have noticed them in the street,–how do they live? How do they get the strength to put on their clothes in the morning?
If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry. If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry. These are the only ways I know it. Is there any other way?
Add comment February 7th, 2005