Where mystery begins religion ends.
Searching nature I taste self but at one tankard, that of my own being.
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
The poetical language of an age should be the current language heightened.
What is all this juice and all this joy?
Summer ends now; now, barbarous in beauty, the Stooks arise Around; up above, what wind-walks! what lovely behavior Of silk-sack clouds! Has wilder, willful-waiver Meal-drift molded ever and melted across skies?
Spring and Fall: To a Young Child Márgarét, are you gríeving Over Goldengrove unleaving? Leáves, líke the things of man, you With your fresh thoughts care for, can you? Ah! ás the heart grows older It will come to such sights colder By and by, nor spare a sigh Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie; And yet you wíll weep and know why. Now no matter, child, the name: Sórrow's spríngs áre the same. Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed What heart heard of, ghost guessed: It ís the blight man was born for, It is Margaret you mourn for.
Once we open up to the flow of energy within our body, we can also open up to the flow of energy in the universe.
Failure is relative. Life is adventure. Everything has beauty.
If possible, be Russian. And live in another country. Play chess. Be an active trader between languages. Carry precious metals from one to the other. Remind us of Stravinsky. Know the names of plants and flying creatures. Hunt gauzy wings with snares of gauze. Make science pay tribute. Have a butterfly known by your name.
The tradition of professional baseball always has been agreeably free of chivalry. The rule is, "Do anything you can get away with. "