We would rather die in dread/ Than climb the cross of the moment/ And let our illusions die. - W. H. Auden

(Precocious children rarely grow up good). My aunts and uncles thought me quite atrocious. For using words more adult than I should

A fairy tale...on the other hand, demands of the reader total surrender; so long as he is in its world, there must be for him no other.

I sit in one of the dives On Fifty-second Street Uncertain and afraid As the clever hopes expire Of a low dishonest decade: Waves of anger and fear Circulate over the bright And darkened lands of the earth, Obsessing our private lives; The unmentionable odour of death Offends the September night.