"He glosses over and doesn't even tell the truth....Here is a guy who is the ultimate flip-flopper running for president, and he's attacking me for not being principled? That doesn't wash."

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Reading [poetry], you know, is rather like opening the door to a horde of rebels who swarm out attacking one in twenty places at once - hit, roused, scraped, bared, swung through the air, so that life seems to flash by; then again blinded, knocked on the head - all of which are agreeable sensations for a reader (since nothing is more dismal than to open the door and get no response).

— Virginia Woolf