In the great cities, winter glitters with art and feasting. But poetry, the country cousin, sees only the dearth of the fields. — Mason Cooley Copy Share Image
The harp is an insipid instrument--no good for dancing, feasting, or marching, only for sitting primly in a parlor or on a… — Mason Cooley Copy Share Image
Nostalgia keeps dissolving the ironic narratives in which I have contained my past. — Mason Cooley Copy Share Image
Even the most abject have a sense of superiority based on powerful though undefined merits. — Mason Cooley Copy Share Image
Literary tradition is full of lies about poverty-the jolly beggar, the poor but happy milkmaid, the wholesome diet of porridge, etc. — Mason Cooley Copy Share Image
My intentions go one way, my desires another. Thus I feel both self-indulgent and deprived. — Mason Cooley Copy Share Image
