If ever I said in grief or pride, I’d tired of honest things, I lied.
It’s not true that life is one damn thing after another; it is one damn thing over and over.
Parrots, tortoises and redwoods live a longer life than men do; Men a longer life than dogs do; Dogs a longer life than love does.
If I love you Wednesday, What is that to you? I do not love you Thursday – so much is true.
I drank at every vine, the last was like the first. I came upon no wine so wonderful as thirst.
I had a little sorrow, Born of a little sin.
All my life, Following Care along the dusty road, Have I looked back on loveliness and sighed...
Lord, I do fear Thou’st made the world too beautiful this year My soul is all but out of me-let fall No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.
Euclid Alone Has Looked on Beauty Bare.
Life goes on forever like the gnawing of a mouse.
Time can make soft that iron wood.
The only people I really hate are servants. They’re not really human beings at all.
Youth, have no pity; leave no farthing here For age to invest in compromise and fear.
Let us not forget such words, and all they mean, as hatred, bitterness, and rancor greed, intolerance, bigotry; let us renew our faith and pledge to man, his right to be himself and free.
The fabric of my faithful love No power shall dim or ravel Whilst I stay here – but oh, my dear, If I should ever travel!
Sweet love, sweet thorn, when lightly to my heart. I took your thrust, whereby I since am slain, And I lie disheveled in the grass apart, A sodden thing bedrenched by tears and rain.
Upon this gifted age, in its dark hour falls from the sky a meteoric shower of facts; They lie unquestioned, uncombined. Wisdom enough to leech us of our ill is daily spun, But there exists no loom to weave it into fabric.
I make bean stalks, I’m A builder, like yourself.
I do not think there is a woman in whom the roots of passion shoot deeper than in me.
Heap not on this mound roses that she loved so well; why bewilder her with roses that she cannot see or smell.