I have written some poetry that I don't understand myself.

Poetry is a theorem of a yellow-silk handkerchief knotted with riddles, sealed in a balloon tied to the tail of a kite flying in a white wind against a blue sky in spring.

If [America] forgets where she came from, if the people lose sight of what brought them along, if she listens to the deniers and mockers, then will begin the rot and dissolution.

Man is a long time coming. Man will yet win. Brother may yet line up with brother: This old anvil laughs at many broken hammers.There are men who can't be bought.

I doubt if you can have a truly wild party without liquor.

a women is like a tea bag.it's only when she is in hot water that you realize how strong she is.

I could safely declare, I am an idealist... I believe in everything - I am only looking for proofs.