I never made a mistake in grammar but one in my life and as soon as I done it I seen it.
I am! I have come through! I belong!
Poetry is the harnessing of the paradox of earth cradling life and then entombing it.
The shovel is the brother to the gun.
We read Robert Browning's poetry. Here we needed no guidance from the professor: the poems themselves were enough.
I have always felt that a woman has the right to treat the subject of her age with ambiguity until, perhaps, she passes into the realm of over ninety. Then it is better she be candid with herself and with the world.