The hurt is not enough: I long for weight and strength. To feel the earth as rough to all my length

Heaven gives its glimpses only to those not in position to look too close.

A mother takes twenty years to make a man of her boy, and another woman makes a fool of him in twenty minutes.

The chance is the remotest, Of its going much longer unnoticed, That I'm not keeping pace With the headlong human race

Create and stir other people to create.

You've got to love what's lovable, and hate what's hateable. It takes brains to see the difference.

A true sonnet goes eight lines and then takes a turn for better or worse and goes six or eight lines more.