Women sit or move to and fro, some old, some young, / The young are beautiful--but the old are more beautiful than the young.

Everybody is writing, writing, writing - worst of all, writing poetry. It'd be better if the whole tribe of the scribblers - every damned one of us - were sent off somewhere with tool chests to do some honest work.

The smallest sprout shows there is really no death. And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it.

Praised be the fathomless universe, for life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious.

I Think it is lost.....but nothing is ever lost nor can be lost . The body sluggish, aged, cold, the ember left from earlier fires shall duly flame again.

If you want me again look for me under your boot soles.

More and more too, the old name absorbs into me. Mannahatta, 'the place encircled by many swift tides and sparkling waters.' How fit a name for America's great democratic island city! The word itself, how beautiful! how aboriginal! how it seems to rise with tall spires, glistening in sunshine, with such New World atmosphere, vista and action!