The chance is the remotest, Of its going much longer unnoticed, That I'm not keeping pace With the headlong human race
Nearly everybody is looking for something brave to do. I don't know why people shouldn't write poetry. That's brave.
Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting.
You don't have to deserve your mother's love. You have to deserve your father's.
The only way out is to go through
The only way out is through.