There is no secret to success except hard work and getting something indefinable which we call 'the breaks.

I have a rendezvous with life.

Never love with all your heart, It only ends in aching.

Whatever lives is granted breath But by the grace and sufferance of Death.

We were not made to eternally weep.

Give but a grain of the heart's rich seed, Confine some under cover, And when love goes, bid him God-speed. And find another lover.

Yet do I marvel at this curious thing:/ To make a poet black, and bid him sing!