Nothing gold can stay.

God made a beauteous garden With lovely flowers strown, But one straight, narrow pathway That was not overgrown. And to this beauteous garden He brought mankind to live, And said "To you, my children, These lovely flowers I give. Prune ye my vines and fig trees, With care my flowers tend, But keep the pathway open Your home is at the end." God's Garden

The world is full of willing people; some willing to work, the rest willing to let them.

Don't be an agnostic. Be something.

A definite purpose, like blinders on a horse, inevitably narrows its possessor's point of view.

Poetry is a reaching out forward expression, an effort to find fulfillment

Yes, and even for the past...that it will turn out to have been all right for what it was. Something I can accept. Mistakes made by the self I had to be or was not able to be.