I was up day and night with Lincoln for years. I couldn't have picked a better companion.

What else have I done nearly all my life than go hungry and go on singing?

Poetry is a mock of a cry at finding a million dollars and a mock of a laugh at losing it.

Let a joy keep you. Reach out your hands and take it when it runs by.

I glory in this world of men and women, torn with troubles, yet living on to love and laugh through it all.

Poetry is a plan for a slit in the face of a bronze fountain goat and the path of fresh drinking water.

The past is a bucket of ashes