There are no atheists on turbulent airplanes.
Take your life in your own hands, and what happens? A terrible thing: no one to blame.
We write poems / as leaves give oxygen - / so we can breathe.
what was time but a convention, a habit of mind, a custom of dress?
They keep saying the right person will come along. I think mine got hit by a truck.
Compose with utter freedom and edit with utter discipline.