The morning hour has gold at the mouth.
That strain again! It had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! Enough; no more: 'Tis not so sweet as it was before.
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?
Big league defense is going to get outs most times.
Imperfection means perfection hid.
I always thought that writing poetry was in itself a political act.
Our job is not to ask that God respond to our notion of truth. Our job is to be true to Him, Hi-His word and His commandments, and we should assume humbly that we're confused and don't always know what we're doin' and we're staggerin' and stumblin' towards him and have some humility in that process.