I always say that one's poetry is a solace to oneself and a nuisance to one's friends.

'Ms.' is a syllable which sounds like a bumble bee is breaking wind.

But memory, after a time, dispenses its own emphasis, making a feuilleton of what we once thought most ponderable, laying its wreath on what we never thought to recall.

Diplomacy is what is practiced after-the-fact. Never be too right too soon -- as any smart Uncle will tell you. The man who guesses what will happen will be blamed for it. No one will believe he has merely guessed.

It took most people a lifetime to join the human race.

The young show the genetic process, the old merely die of it.

I don't suppose there's really any critic except posterity.