Now I am here - now read me - give me a name.
The past is a bucket of ashes
A liar goes in fine clothes, a liar goes in rags, a liar is a liar, clothes or no clothes.
The single clenched fist lifted and ready, Or the open asking hand held out and waiting. Choose: For we meet by one or the other.
Nothing happens unless first we dream.
We read Robert Browning's poetry. Here we needed no guidance from the professor: the poems themselves were enough.