What we speak becomes the house we live in.
There are different wells within your heart. Some fill with each good rain, Others are far too deep for that.
The small man builds cages for everyone he knows While the sage, who has to duck his head when the moon is low, Keeps dropping keys all night long For the beautiful rowdy prisoners.
Now that all your worry has proved such an unlucrative business. Why not find a better job.
Woe to the dupe that yields to Fate!
God disguised as myriad things, and playing a game of tag has kissed you and said, "You're it. I mean you're really it. Now it does not matter what you believe or feel. For something wonderful, something major-league wonderful, is someday going to happen."