I never feel more at home than at a ballgame.

Two such as you with such a master speed, cannot be parted nor be swept away, from one another once you are agreed, that life is only life forevermore, together wing to wing and oar to oar.

One aged man - one man - can't fill a house.

I think I know enough of hate to say that for destruction ice is also great and would suffice.

The only way round is through.

Sentences are not different enough to hold the attention unless they are dramatic. No ingenuity of varying structure will do. All that can save them is the speaking tone of voice somehow entangled in the words and fastened to the page for the ear of the imagination. That is all that can save poetry from sing-song, all that can save prose from itself.

Unless you are educated in metaphor, you are not safe to be let loose in the world.