Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo. Shovel them under and let me work. I am the grass. I cover all.
Where was I going? I puzzled and wondered about it til I actually enjoyed the puzzlement and wondering.
Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.
I learned you can't trust the judgment of good friends.
Love your neighbor as yourself but don't take down your fence.
What else have I done nearly all my life than go hungry and go on singing?