I am! I have come through! I belong!
By night the skyscraper looms in the smoke and the stars and has a soul.
The past is a bucket of ashes
Every blunder behind us is giving a cheer for us, and only for those who were willing to fail are the dangers and splendors of life.
Money buys everything except love, personality, freedom, immortality, silence, peace.
Poetry is a fossil rock-print of a fin and a wing, with an illegible oath between.