As contagion of sickness makes sickness, contagion of trust can make trust.
Poetry is the art of creating imaginary gardens with real toads.
[The] whirlwind fife-and-drum of the storm bends the salt marsh grass, disturbs stars in the sky and the star on the steeple; it is a privilege to see so much confusion.
The heart that gives, gathers.
Blessed the geniuses who know / that egomania is not a duty.
Fanaticism? No. Writing is exciting and baseball is like writing. You can never tell with either how it will go.