Such was a poet and shall be and is -who'll solve the depths of horror to defend a sunbeam's architecture with his life: and carve immortal jungles of despair to hold a mountain's heartbeat in his hand.

yes is a world & in this world of yes live (skilfully curled) all worlds

they believe in Christ and Longfellow, both dead

there's time for laughing and there's time for crying— for hoping for despair for peace for longing —a time for growing and a time for dying: a night for silence and a day for singing but more than all(as all your more than eyes tell me)there is a time for timelessness

At least the Pilgrim Fathers used to shoot Indians: the Pilgrim Children merely punch time clocks.

It may take two people to make a really beautiful mistake.

Now the ears of my ears awake and now the eyes of my eyes are opened.