POETRY: A sliver of the moon lost in the belly of a golden frog.

Slang is a language that rolls up its sleeves, spits on its hands and goes to work.

Newspapers tell beforehand what is going to happen - maybe.

Shakespeare, Leonardo da Vinci, Benjamin Franklin and Abraham Lincoln never saw a movie, heard a radio or looked at television. They had 'Loneliness' and knew what to do with it. They were not afraid of being lonely because they knew that was when the creative mood in them would work.

History is a living horse laughing at a wooden horse. History is a wind blowing where it listeth. History is no sure thing to bet on. History is a box of tricks with a lost key. History is a labyrinth of doors with sliding panels, a book of ciphers with the code in a cave of the Saragossa sea. History says, if it pleases, Excuse me, I beg your pardon, it will never happen again if I can help it.

There is a warning love sends and the cost of it is never written till long afterward.

Poetry is a packsack of invisible keepsakes.