Poetry is a section of river-fog and moving boat-lights, delivered between bridges and whistles, so one says, 'Oh!' and another, 'How?'

Come on, you Do you want to live forever?

There have been as many varieties of socialists as there are wild birds that fly in the woods and sometimes go up and on through the clouds.

Poetry is a sky dark with a wild-duck migration.

A liar is a liar and lives on the lies he tells and dies in a life of lies.

Our lives are like a candle in the wind.

Yesterday is done. Tomorrow never comes. Today is here. If you don't know what to do, sit still and listen. You may hear something. Nobody knows.