To be a good loser is to learn how to win.
Poetry is a packsack of invisible keepsakes.
I am! I have come through! I belong!
The drum in a dream pounds loud to the dreamer.
In the night the cabbages catch at the moon, the leaves drip silver, the rows of cabbages are a series of little silver waterfalls in the moon.
My room for books and study or for sitting and thinking about nothing in particular to see what would happen was at the end of a hall.