The fog comes on little cat feet.
You remember some bedrooms you have slept in. There are bedrooms you like to remember and others you would like to forget.
I'm an idealist. I don't know where I'm going, but I'm on my way.
Poetry is a mystic, sensuous mathematics of fire, smoke-stacks, waffles, pansies, people, and purple sunsets.
What else have I done nearly all my life than go hungry and go on singing?
Our lives are like a candle in the wind.