Come clean with a child heart Laugh as peaches in the summer wind Let rain on a house roof be a song Let the writing on your face be a smell of apple orchards on late June.

Our lives are like a candle in the wind.

Anger is the most impotent of passions. It effects nothing it goes about, and hurts the one who is possessed by it more than the one against whom it is directed.

We live in the time of the colossal upright oblong.

I glory in this world of men and women, torn with troubles, yet living on to love and laugh through it all.

Poetry is a fossil rock-print of a fin and a wing, with an illegible oath between.

Poetry is the journal of a sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air.