The fact is the sweetest dream that labor knows.

All those who try to go it sole alone, Too proud to be beholden for relief, Are absolutely sure to come to grief.

A poem begins with a lump in the throat

The brain is a wonderful organ; it starts working the moment you get up in the morning and does not stop until you get into the office.

The sidelong glance is what you depend on.

Forgive me my nonsense, as I also forgive the nonsense of those that think they talk sense.

A breeze discovered my open book And began to flutter the leaves to look