Friends: people who borrow my books and set wet glasses on them.

Pity is like a knife, sometimes, and it may pierce one who employs it more shrewdly than the victim it would save.

And thus we all are nighing The truth we fear to know: Death will end our crying For friends that come and go.

To some will come a time when change itself is beauty, if not heaven.

Friends: people who borrow my books and set wet glasses on them.

Two kinds of gratitude: The sudden kind we feel for what we take; the larger kind we feel for what we give.

I am living on hope and faith ... a pretty good diet when the mind will receive them.