the sea is a collector, quick to return a rapacious look.
[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.
Poetry is all nouns and verbs.
Which of us has not been stunned by the beauty of an animal's skin or its flexibility in motion?
Writing is an undertaking for the modest.
The mind is an enchanting thing.