There's a crystallization that goes on in a poem which the young man can bring off, but which the middle-aged man can't.

I secretly understood: the primitive appeal of the hearth. Television is-its irresistible charm-a fire.

We hope the 'real' person behind the words will be revealed as ignominiously as a shapeless snail without its shapely shell.

He skates saucily over great tracts of confessed ignorance.