Who can tell truth from falsehood any more? I say it, and you feel it in your hearts: no man or woman on this big small earth. How should our sages miss the mark of life, and our most skillful players lose the game? your hearts will tell you, as my heart has told me: because all know, and no one understands.

To like an individual because he's black is just as insulting as to dislike him because he isn't white.

The only man, woman, or child who wrote a simple declarative sentence with seven grammatical errors "is dead."

his lips drink water but his heart drinks wine

...and down they forgot as up they grew.

The sweet small clumsy feet of april came into the ragged meadow of my soul.

If at the end of your first ten or fifteen years of fighting and working and feeling, you find you've written one line of one poem, you'll be very lucky indeed.