No memory of having starred atones for later disregard, or keeps the end from being hard.

I am not a nature poet. There is almost always a person in my poems.

If the writer does not cry, the reader does not cry.

Don't be an agnostic. Be something.

Some spirit to stand simply forth, Heroic in its nakedness, Against the uttermost of earth.

Now no joy but lacks salt That is not dashed with pain And weariness and fault; I crave the stain Of tears, the aftermark Of almost too much love, The sweet of bitter bark And burning clove.

Let him that is without stone among you cast the first thing he can lay his hands on.