For, dear me, why abandon a belief, Merely because it ceases to be true, Cling to it long enough, and not a doubt, It will turn true again, for so it goes.

Talking is a hydrant in the yard and writing is a faucet upstairs in the house. Opening the first takes the pressure off the second.

When I see birches bend to left and right... I like to think some boy's been swinging them.

What is this talked-of mystery of birth. But being mounted bareback on the earth?

The best way out is always through.

Nature is always hinting at us.

Nothing is quite honest that is not commercial, but not everything commercial is honest.