I couldn't see myself filling some definite niche in what is called a career. This was all misty.

I see America, not in the setting sun of a black night of despair ahead of us, I see America in the crimson light of a rising sun fresh from the burning, creative hand of God. I see great days ahead, great days possible to men and women of will and vision.

Poetry is an exhibit of one pendulum connecting with other and unseen pendulums inside and outside the one seen.

Didn't you tie the mittens on her feet (Wednesday Evening's) extra special nice? Yes--she is an extra special nice pigeon. She cries for pity when she wants pity. And she shuts her eyes when she doesn't want to look at you. And if you look deep in her eyes when her eyes are open you will see lights there exactly like the lights on the pastures and the meadows when the mist is drifting on a Wednesday evening just between the twilight and gloaming.

We don't have to think up a title till we get the doggone book written.

Valor is a gift. Those having it never know for sure whether they have it until the test comes.

A tough will counts. So does desire.So does a rich soft wanting.Without rich wanting nothing arrives.