Pardon My Sanity In A World Insane
Longing, it may be, is the gift no other gift supplies.
A little Madness in the Spring Is wholesome even for the King.
I know nothing in the world that has as much power as a word. Sometimes I write one, and I look at it, until it begins to shine.
The Spirit lurks within the Flesh Like Tides within the Sea That make the Water live, estranged What would the Either be?
We meet no Stranger, but Ourself.