Humor is laughing at what you haven't got when you ought to have it.
Gather out of star-dust, Earth-dust, Cloud-dust, Storm-dust, And splinters of hail, One handful of dream-dust, Not for sale.
I will not take "but" for an answer.
When poems stop talking about the moon and begin to mention poverty, trade unions, color, color lines and colonies, somebody tells the police.
Money and art are far apart.
I swear to the Lord, I still can't see, why Democracy means, everybody but me.