That day she put our heads together, Fate had her imagination about her, Your head so much concerned with outer, Mine with inner, weather.

One of the hardest things in life to accept is a called third strike.

I often say of George Washington that he was one of the few in the whole history of the world who was not carried away by power.

Only God and I knew what I meant when I wrote it, now only God knows

I hope to leave behind a few poems it will be hard to get rid of.

So was I once myself a swinger of birches. And so I dream of going back to be.

If we couldn't laugh we would all go insane.