I mean, I know my heart is not clean, and your heart is not clean, and none of our urban hearts are clean. But you can be washed again.
When the poet makes his perfect selection of a word, he is endowing the word with life.
When you defile the pleasant streams, And the wild bird's abiding place, You massacre a million dreams, And cast your spittle in God's face
A lyric, it is true, is the expression of personal emotion, but then so is all poetry, and to suppose that there are several kinds of poetry, differing from each other in essence, is to be deceived by wholly artificial divisions which have no real being.
Grant us the wil1 to fashion as we feel, Grant us the strength to labor as we know, Grant us the purpose, ribbed and edged with steel, To strike the blow.
It should here be added that poetry habitually takes the form of verse.
Poetry being the sign of that which all men desire, even though the desire be unconscious, intensity of life or completeness of experience, the universality of its appeal is a matter of course.
President Obama and his family are spending the holidays in Hawaii, and while they're gone, they got a fence jumper to house sit. Tomorrow, he will be in Hawaii playing golf with Raul Castro and the Pope.
You know, the murder - the number of murders in our country this year [2016], went up more than they have in 45 years.
My purist comedy friends accuse me of being a Jack of all trades and master of none.
What a glut of books! Who can read them?