Poetry comes from the highest happiness or the deepest sorrow.
I remember how the other kids used to say that old Mister Swenson was the meanest man in town. But I said I thought he was nice, that he just didn't know how to show it. The meanest man in town, I said, was the mean old guy who lived in the big white house. 'THAT'S MISTER SWENSON,' they said. Oh, my mistake.