i remember we all cried like the Missouri when my Uncle Sol's coffin lurched because somebody pressed a button (and down went my uncle Sol and started a worm farm)

and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you

-Before leaving my room i turn, and (stooping through the morning) kiss this pillow, dear where our heads lived and were.

To be nobody-but-yourself - in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else - means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.

And the coolness of your smile is stirringofbirds between my arms

Your slightest look easily will unclose me, though I have closed myself as fingers, you open petal by petal myself a Spring opens her first rose.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)