Such poopitations of the heart as you would not believe.
Dost thou love hawking? Thou hast hawks will soar Above the morning lark.
The Eyes are the window to your soul
What a terrible era in which idiots govern the blind.
There are three people in yourself - who people think you are, who you think you are, and who you really are.
New friends may be poems but old friends are alphabets. Don't forget the alphabets because you will need them to read the poems.
If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die? And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?
But when I cut off my hair I even had friends not recognize me.
Wounds and hardships provoke our courage, and when our fortunes are at the lowest, our wits and minds are commonly at the best.
Printer's ink has been running a race against gunpowder these many, many years. Ink is handicapped, in a way, because you can blow up a man with gunpowder in half a second, while it may take twenty years to blow him up with a book. But the gunpowder destroys itself along with its victim, while a book can keep on exploding for centuries.
I'm not a big believer in disciplined writers. What does discipline mean? The writer who forces himself to sit down and write for seven hours every day might be wasting those seven hours if he's not in the mood and doesn't feel the juice. I don't think discipline equals creativity.