A turning point in modern history.

I hold it to be the inalienable right of anybody to go to hell in his own way.

I'd just as soon play tennis with the net down.

I do not see why I should e’er turn back, Or those should not set forth upon my track To overtake me, who should miss me here And long to know if still I held them dear. They would not find me changed from him they knew — Only more sure of all I thought was true.

Poetry is the renewal of words, setting them free, and that's what a poet is doing: loosening the words.

All the fun is in how you say a thing.

In A Glass of Cider It seemed I was a mite of sediment That waited for the bottom to ferment So I could catch a bubble in ascent. I rode up on one till the bubble burst, And when that left me to sink back reversed I was no worse off than I was at first. I'd catch another bubble if I waited. The thing was to get now and then elated.