Love-buds, put before you and within you, whoever you are, Buds to be unfolded on the old terms; If you bring the warmth of the sun to them, they will open, and bring form, color, perfume, to you; If you become the aliment and the wet, they will become flowers, fruits, tall blanches and trees.

Re-examine all that you have been told... dismiss that which insults your soul.

I think it is lost.....but nothing is ever lost nor can be lost .

Either define the moment or the moment will define you.

You have not known what you are - you have slumber'd upon yourself all your life; Your eye-lids have been the same as closed most of the time; What you have done returns already in mockeries; Your thrift, knowledge, prayers, if they do not return in mockeries, what is their return? The mockeries are not you; Underneath them, and within them, I see you lurk.

Shut not your doors to me proud libraries.

The proof of a poet is that his country absorbs him as affectionately as he has absorbed it.