There are men and women so lonely they believe God, too, is lonely.

Poetry is a type-font design for an alphabet of fun, hate, love, death.

There is an eagle in me that wants to soar, and there is a hippopotamus in me that wants to wallow in the mud.

For we know when a nation goes down and never comes back, when a society or a civilization perishes, one condition may always be found. They forgot where they came from. They lost sight of what brought them along.

There are dreams stronger than death. Men and women die holding these dreams.

To work hard, to live hard, to die hard, and then go to hell after all would be too damned hard.

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.