Oh may I join the choir invisible Of those immortal dead who live again In minds made better by their presence.
Music sweeps by me as a messenger - Carrying a message that is not for me
It is impossible, to me at least, to be poetical in cold weather.
The last refuge of intolerance is in not tolerating the intolerant.
Selfishโ a judgment readily passed by those who have never tested their own power of sacrifice.
There is no sense of ease like the ease we felt in those scenes where we were born.